THE  PSYCHOLOGY 
OF  SUGGESTION 

A  RESEARCH  INTO  THE 
SUBCONSCIOUS  NATURE 
OF  MAN  AND  SOCIETY 


BY 

BORIS  SIDIS,  M.  A.,  Ph.  D. 

ASSOCIATE  IN  PSYCHOLOGY  AT  THE  PATHOLOGICAL  INSTITUTE 
OF  THE  NEW  YORK  STATE  HOSPITALS 


WITH  AN  INTRODUCTION  BY 

PROF.  WILLIAM  JAMES,  OF  HARVARD  UNIVERSITY 


NEW  YORK  AND  LONDON 

D.  APPLETON  AND  COMPANY 


1924 


ft  F 
UM\ 

-SS8 


mar  -8  1976 

Copyright,  1898, 

0T  D.  APPLETON  AND  COMPANY. 


OSTON  COLLEGE  LIBRARY 
CHESTNUT  HILL,  MASS. 


Printed  in  the  United  States  of  America 


EDebicateb  to 


DAVID  GORDON  LYON,  Ph.D 

HOLLIS  PROFESSOR  OF  DIVINITY 
AT  HARVARD  UNIVERSITY. 


IHTKODtJCTIOK 


I  am  glad  to  contribute  to  this  book  of  Dr.  Boris 
Sidis  a  few  words  of  introduction,  wbicb  may  possibly 
gain  for  it  a  prompter  recognition  by  the  world  of 
readers  who  are  interested  in  the  things  of  which  it 
treats.  Much  of  the  experimental  part  of  the  work, 
although  planned  entirely  by  Dr.  Sidis,  was  done  in  the 
Harvard  Psychological  Laboratory,  and  I  have  been 
more  or  less  in  his  confidence  while  his  theoretic  conclu¬ 
sions,  based  on  his  later  work  in  the  Pathological  Institute 
of  the  Hew  York  State  Hospitals,  were  taking  shape. 

The  meaning  of  personality,  with  its  limits  and  its 
laws,  forms  a  problem  which  until  quite  recently  had 
to  be  discussed  almost  exclusively  by  logical  and  meta¬ 
physical  methods.  Within  the  past  dozen  years,  how¬ 
ever,  an  immense  amount  of  new  empirical  material 
had  been  injected  into  the  question  by  the  observations 
which  the  “recognition”  by  science  of  the  hypnotic 
state  set  in  motion.  Many  of  these  observations  are 
pathological :  fixed  ideas,  hysteric  attacks,  insane  delu¬ 
sions,  mediumistic  phenomena,  etc.  And  altogether, 
although  they  are  far  from  having  solved  the  problem 
of  personality,  they  must  be  admitted  to  have  trans¬ 
formed  its  outward  shape.  What  are  the  limits  of  the 
consciousness  of  a  human  being  ?  Is  “  self  ”  conscious- 


VI 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  SUGGESTION. 


ness  only  a  part  of  the  whole  consciousness  ?  Are  there 
many  “  selves  ”  dissociated  from  one  another  ?  What 
is  the  medium  of  synthesis  in  a  group  of  associated 
ideas  ?  How  can  certain  systems  of  ideas  be  cut  off 
and  forgotten  ?  Is  personality  a  product,  and  not  a 
principle  ?  Such  are  the  questions  now  being  forced 
to  the  front — questions  now  asked  for  the  first  time 
with  some  sense  of  their  concrete  import,  and  questions 
which  it  will  require  a  great  amount  of  further  work, 
both  of  observation  and  of  analysis,  to  answer  ade¬ 
quately. 

Meanwhile  many  writers  are  seeking  to  fill  the  gap, 
and  several  books  have  been  published  seeking  to  popu¬ 
larize  the  new  observations  and  ideas  and  present  them 
in  connected  form.  Dr.  Sidis’  work  distinguishes  itself 
from  some  of  these  by  its  originality,  and  from  others 
by  the  width  of  its  scope. 

It  is  divided  into  three  parts:  Suggestibility;  the 
Self  ;  Man  as  One  of  a  Crowd.  Under  all  these  heads 
the  author  is  original.  He  tries  by  ingenious  experi¬ 
ments  to  show  that  the  suggestibility  of  waking  persons 
follows  an  opposite  law  to  that  of  hypnotic  subjects. 
Suggestions  must  be  veiled ,  in  the  former  case,  to  be 
effective ;  in  the  latter  case,  the  more  direct  and  open 
they  are  the  better.  By  other  ingenious  experiments 
Dr.  Sidis  tries  to  show  that  the  “  subliminal”  or  “ultra¬ 
marginal  ”  portions  of  the  mind  may  in  normal  persons 
distinguish  objects  which  the  attentive  senses  find  it 
impossible  to  name.  These  latter  experiments  are  in¬ 
complete,  but  they  open  the  way  to  a  highly  important 
psychological  investigation. 

In  Part  II,  on  “  The  Self,”  a  very  full  account  is 
given  of  “  double  personality,”  subliminal  conscious¬ 
ness,  etc.  The  author  is  led  to  adopt  as  an  explanation 


INTRODUCTION". 


•  • 
Yll 

of  the  dissociations  which  lie  at  the  root  of  all  these 
conditions  the  physiological  theory  of  retraction  of  the 
processes  of  the  brain  cells,  which  in  other  quarters 
also  seems  coming  to  the  front.  He  makes  an  elaborate 
classification  of  the  different  degrees  of  dissociation  or 
amnesia,  and,  on  the  basis  of  a  highly  interesting  and 
important  pathological  case,  suggests  definite  methods 
of  diagnosis  and  cure.  This  portion  of  the  book  well 
deserves  the  attention  of  neurologists. 

In  Part  III  the  very  important  matter  of  “  crowd 
psychology  ”  is  discussed,  almost  for  the  first  time  in 
English.  There  is  probably  no  more  practically  impor¬ 
tant  topic  to  the  student  of  public  affairs.  Dr.  Sidis 
illustrates  it  by  fresh  examples,  and  his  treatment  is 
highly  suggestive. 

I  am  not  convinced  of  all  of  Dr.  Sidis’  positions, 
but  I  can  cordially  recommend  the  volume  to  all  classes 
of  readers  as  a  treatise  both  interesting  and  instructive, 
and  original  in  a  high  degree,  on  a  branch  of  research 
whose  importance  is  daily  growing  greater. 

William  James. 


Harvard  University. 


CONTEXTS 


Introduction  by  Prop.  William  James  .  .  . 

Introduction  by  the  author . 

PART  I. 

S  UG  GES  TIBILITY. 

CHAPTER 

I.  Suggestions  and  suggestibility  .  .  . 

II.  The  classification  of  suggestions  and  suggesti¬ 
bility  . 

III.  The  evidence  of  normal  suggestibility  . 

IV.  The  conditions  of  normal  suggestibility 

V.  The  law  of  normal  suggestibility  . 

YI.  The  conditions  of  abnormal  suggestibility  . 

YII.  The  nature  of  abnormal  suggestibility 

VIII.  The  law  of  abnormal  suggestibility 

IX.  Suggestibility  and  the  waking  consciousness 

PART  II. 

THE  SELF. 

X.  The  secondary  self . 

XI.  The  subconscious  self  and  unconscious  cerebra¬ 
tion  . 

XII.  The  double  self  . . 

XIII.  The  interrelation  of  the  two  selves  . 

XIV.  Subconscious  sense  perception  in  the  waking  state 


PAQB 

V 

1 


5 

16 

24 

45 

50 

56 

62 

78 

87 


91 

109 

129 

141 

148 


IX 


X 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  SUGGESTION. 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

XV.  The  subconscious  self  and  hallucinations  .  .  154 

XVI.  The  sub  waking  self  and  the  normal  individual  158 

XVII.  The  intercommunication  of  the  two  selves  .  162 
XVIII.  The  subconscious  self  in  the  waking  state  .  180 

XIX.  The  problem  of  personality . 188 

XX.  The  elements  and  stages  of  subconsciousness  .  201 

XXI.  The  physiology  and  pathology  of  subconscious¬ 
ness  . 208 

XXII.  The  case  of  the  Rev.  Thomas  Carson  Hanna  .  216 

XXIII.  Forms  of  subconscious  states  and  types  of 

amnesia . 228 

XXIV.  The  character  of  the  subconscious  self  .  .  245 

XXV.  Subconsciousness  and  insanity  ....  269 

XXVI.  The  traits  of  the  subconscious  self  .  .  .  293 

PART  III. 

SOCIETY. 

XXVII.  Social  suggestibility . 297 

XXVIII.  Society  and  epidemics . 309 

XXIX.  Stampedes . 314 

XXX.  Mediaeval  mental  epidemics . 319 

XXXI.  Demonophobia . 331 

i 

XXXII.  Financial  crazes . 343 

XXXIII.  American  mental  epidemics . 350 

Appendix  .........  365 

Index . 381 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OP  SUGGESTION. 


INTRODUCTION. 

The  study  of  the  subconscious  is  becoming  of  more 
and  more  absorbing  interest.  The  phenomena  of  hys¬ 
teria  and  of  hypnosis  are  now  studied  by  the  French 
psychologists  with  remarkable  acumen  and  with  an  un¬ 
rivalled  fertility  of  ingenious  devices,  and  the  results 
obtained  thus  far  form  almost  an  epoch  in  the  history 
of  psychology.  Although  the  French  psychologists 
work  independently  of  one  another  and  disagree  among 
themselves  on  many  important  points,  still  their  method 
and  general  line  of  investigation  are  pretty  nearly  the 
same.  They  all  care  for  clinical  cases  more  than  for 
minute,  detailed  laboratory  experiments — the  present 
hobby  of  the  Germans — and  their  chief  work  falls 
within  the  domain  of  the  subconscious.  The  French 
psychologists  seem  to  be  on  the  track  of  a  rich  gold 
vein.  Without  closely  formulating  their  method,  they 
have  all,  as  if  by  a  mutual  tacit  understanding,  chosen 
the  right  way  that  leads  to  a  better  and  deeper  in¬ 
sight  into  the  nature  of  mind.  For  the  mechanism 
of  consciousness  is  hidden  deep  down  in  the  depths 
of  the  subconscious,  and  it  is  thither  we  have  to 

descend  in  order  to  get  a  clear  understanding  of  the 

1 


2 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  SUGGESTION. 


phenomena  that  appear  in  the  broad  daylight  of  con¬ 
sciousness. 

The  German  school,  with  Wundt  at  its  head,  at  first 
started  out  on  similar  lines,  but  they  could  not  make 
any  use  of  the  subconscious,  and  their  speculations  ran 
wild  in  the  fancies  of  Hartmann.  The  reason  of  this 
failure  is  due  to  the  fact  that  the  concept  of  the  sub¬ 
conscious  as  conceived  by  the  German  school  was 
extremely  vague,  and  had  rather  the  character  of  a 
mechanical  than  that  of  a  psychical  process.  An  un¬ 
conscious  consciousness  that  was  their  concept  of  the 
subconscious.  In  such  a  form  as  this  the  subconscious 
was  certainly  meaningless — mere  nonsense — and  had 
to  be  given  up.  The  German  psychological  investiga¬ 
tions  are  now  confined  to  the  content  of  consciousness 
in  so  far  as  the  individual  is  immediately  conscious  of 
it.  But  as  this  form  of  consciousness  is  extremely  nar¬ 
row  and  circumscribed,  the  results  arrived  at,  though 
remarkable  for  their  thoroughness,  are  after  all  of  a 
rather  trivial  nature.  It  is  what  Prof.  James  aptly 
characterizes  “the  elaboration  of  the  obvious.”  We 
may  therefore,  with  full  right,  assert  that  it  was  the 
French  psychologists  who  made  proper  use  of  the  sub¬ 
conscious  and  arrived  at  results  that  are  of  the  utmost 
importance  to  psychology,  although  it  were  well  if  the 
French  were  to  conduct  their  investigations  with  Ger¬ 
man  thoroughness. 

It  is  not,  however,  the  French  alone  who  work 
along  the  lines  of  the  subconscious,  but  the  English 
and  Americans,  too,  have  a  large  share  in  the  work. 
Gourney,  James,  Myers,  and  others,  have  done  much 
toward  the  elucidation  of  the  obscure  phenomena  of  the 
subconscious.  Psychology  is  especially  indebted  to  the 
genius  of  Myers  for  his  wide  and  comprehensive  study 


INTRODUCTION. 


3 


of  the  phenomena  of  the  subconscious,  or  of  what  he 
calls  the  manifestations  of  the  subliminal  self.  The 
only  drawback  in  Myers’s  concept  of  the  subliminal 
self  is  that  he  conceives  it  as  a  metaphysical  entity,  as 
a  kind  of  a  cosmic  self.  Now,  while  Myers  may  be 
right  in  his  belief,  the  phenomena  under  investigation 
do  not  warrant  the  hypothesis  of  metaphysical  entities. 
I  have  therefore  avoided  the  use  of  the  term  “  subliminal 
self,”  however  excellent  it  might  be  in  itself,  in  order 
not  to  entangle  the  reader  in  the  metaphysical  con¬ 
siderations  that  cluster  round  that  concept,  and  also 
because  my  point  of  view  of  the  subconscious  widely 
differs  from  that  of  Myers. 

The  study  of  subconscious  phenomena  is  of  great 
interest  from  a  purely  practical  standpoint,  because 
of  the  use  that  can  be  made  of  it  in  the  state  of 
health  and  disease.  A  knowledge  of  the  laws  of  the 
subconscious  is  of  momentous  import  in  education,  in 
the  reformation  of  juvenile  criminals  and  offenders, 
and  one  can  hardly  realize  the  great  benefit  that  suffer¬ 
ing  humanity  will  derive  from  a  proper  methodical 
use  of  the  subconscious  within  the  province  of  thera¬ 
peutics. 

The  study  of  the  subconscious  is  especially  of  great 
value  to  sociology,  because  nowhere  else  does  the  sub¬ 
conscious  work  on  such  a  grand,  stupendous  scale  as  it 
does  in  the  popular  mind  ;  and  the  sociologist  who 
ignores  the  subconscious  lacks  a  deep  insight  into  the 
nature  of  social  forces.  For  the  practical  man  who 
takes  part  in  social  affairs,  in  so  far  as  they  concern  his 
own  interests,  the  knowledge  of  the  subconscious  can 
hardly  be  overestimated ;  and  this  knowledge  becomes 
an  imperative  necessity  to  him  who  lives  in  a  democ¬ 
racy.  The  object  of  this  book  is  the  study  of  the  sub- 


4 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  SUGGESTION. 


conscious,  normal  or  abnormal,  individual  or  social,  in 
its  relation  to  suggestion  and  suggestibility ;  and  let  me 
hope  that  the  thoughtful  reader  will  find  my  work  not 
only  interesting,  but  stimulating  to  thought  and  useful 
in  practical  life.  g 

Pathological  Institute,  of  the  New  York 
State  Hospitals,  New  York,  1897. 


SUGGESTIBILITY. 


CHAPTER  I. 


SUGGESTION  AND  SUGGESTIBILITY. 


Psychological  investigators  employ  the  term  “  sug¬ 
gestion”  in  such  a  careless  and  loose  fashion  that  the 
reader  is  often  puzzled  as  to  its  actual  meaning.  Sug¬ 
gestion  is  sometimes  used  for  an  idea  bringing  in  its 
train  another  idea,  and  is  thus  identified  with  associa¬ 
tion.  Some  extend  the  province  of  suggestion,  and 
make  it  so  broad  as  to  coincide  with  any  influence  man 
exerts  on  his  fellow-beings.  Others  narrow  down  sug¬ 
gestion  and  suggestibility  to  mere  symptoms  of  hyster¬ 
ical  neurosis.  This  is  done  by  the  adherents  of  the 
Salpetriere  school.  Suggestion,  again,  is  used  by  the 
Haney  school  to  indicate  the  cause  which  produces  that 
peculiar  state  of  mind  in  which  the  phenomena  of  sug¬ 
gestibility  become  especially  prominent. 

This  vague  and  hazy  condition  of  the  subject  of  sug¬ 
gestion  causes  much  confusion  in  psychological  discus¬ 
sions.  To  free  the  subject  from  this  confusion  of 
tongues,  we  must  endeavour  in  some  way  or  other  to 
give  a  strict  definition  of  suggestion,  and  rigorously 
study  the  phenomena  contained  within  the  limited  field 


6 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  SUGGESTION. 


of  our  investigation.  We  must  not  follow  in  the  way 
of  those  writers  who  employ  the  terms  suggestion  and 
suggestibility  in  all  possible  meanings.  Such  careless¬ 
ness  can  not  but  lead  into  a  tangle  of  words.  In  order 
to  give  a  full  description  of  suggestion  and  make  its 
boundary  lines  clear,  distinct,  and  definite,  let  us  take  a 
few  concrete  cases  and  inspect  them  closely. 

I  hold  a  newspaper  in  my  hands  and  begin  to  roll 
it  up ;  soon  I  find  that  my  friend  sitting  opposite 
me  rolled  up  his  in  a  similar  way.  This,  we  say,  is  a 
case  of  suggestion. 

My  friend  Mr.  A.  is  absent-minded;  he  sits  near 
the  table,  thinking  of  some  abstruse  mathematical  prob¬ 
lem  that  baffles  all  his  efforts  to  solve  it.  Absorbed  in 
the  solution  of  that  intractable  problem,  he  is  blind  and 
deaf  to  what  is  going  on  around  him.  His  eyes  are 
directed  on  the  table,  but  he  appears  not  to  see  any  of 
the  objects  there.  I  put  two  glasses  of  water  on  the 
table,  and  at  short  intervals  make  passes  in  the 
direction  of  the  glasses — passes  which  he  seems  not 
to  perceive ;  then  I  resolutely  stretch  out  my  hand,  take 
one  of  the  glasses,  and  begin  to  drink.  My  friend  fol¬ 
lows  suit — dreamily  he  raises  his  hand,  takes  the  glass, 
and  begins  to  sip,  awakening  fully  to  consciousness 
when  a  good  part  of  the  tumbler  is  emptied. 

To  take  an  interesting  and  amusing  case  given  by 
Ochorowitz  in  his  book  Mental  Suggestion : 

“  My  friend  P.,  a  man  no  less  absent-minded  than 
he  is  keen  of  intellect,  was  playing  chess  in  a  neigh¬ 
bouring  room.  Others  of  us  were  talking  near  the  door. 
I  had  made  the  remark  that  it  was  my  friend’s  habit 
when  he  paid  the  closest  attention  to  the  game  to 
whistle  an  air  from  Madame  Angot.  I  was  about  to 
accompany  him  by  beating  time  on  the  table.  But 


SUGGESTION  AND  SUGGESTIBILITY.  7 

this  time  he  whistled  something  else— a  march  from 
Le  Prophete. 

44  4  Listen,’  said  I  .to  my  associates ;  4  we  are  going  to 
play  a  trick  upon  P.  We  will  (mentally)  order  him 
to  pass  from  Le  Prophete  to  La  Fille  de  Madame 
Angot.’ 

44  First  I  began  to  drum  the  march ;  then,  profiting 
by  some  notes  common  to  both,  I  passed  quickly  to  the 
quicker  and  more  staccato  measure  of  my  friend’s  fa¬ 
vourite  air.  P.  on  his  part  suddenly  changed  the  air 
and  began  to  whistle  Madame  Angot.  Every  one 
burst  out  laughing.  My  friend  was  too  much  absorbed 
in  a  check  to  the  queen  to  notice  anything. 

44 4  Let  us  begin  again,’  said  I,  4  and  go  back  to  Le 
Prophete.’  And  straightway  we  had  Meyerbeer  once 
more  with  a  special  fugue.  My  friend  knew  that  he 
had  whistled  something,  but  that  was  all  he  knew.” 

A  huckster  stations  himself  in  the  middle  of  the 
street,  on  some  public  square,  or  on  a  sidewalk,  and  be¬ 
gins  to  pour  forth  volumes  of  gibberish  intended  both' 
as  a  compliment  to  the  people  and  a  praise  of  his  ware. 
The  curiosity  of  the  passers-by  is  awakened.  They 
stop.  Soon  our  hero  forms  the  centre  of  a  crowd  that 
stupidly  gazes  at  the  44  wonderful  ”  objects  held  out  to 
its  view  for  admiration.  A  few  moments  more,  and 
the  crowd  begins  to  buy  the  things  the  huckster  sug¬ 
gests  as  44  grand,  beautiful,  and  cheap.” 

A  stump  orator  mounts  a  log  or  a  car  and  begins  to 
harangue  the  crowd.  In  the  grossest  way  he  praises 
the  great  intelligence,  the  brave  spirit  of  the  people,  the 
virtue  of  the  citizens,  glibly  telling  his  audience  that 
with  such  genius  as  they  possess  they  must  clearly  see 
that  the  prosperity  of  the  country  depends  on  the  poli¬ 
tics  he  favours,  on  the  party  whose  valiant  champion  he 
2 


8 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OP  SUGGESTION. 


now  is.  His  argumentation  is  absurd,  bis  motive  is  con¬ 
temptible,  and  still,  as  a  rule,  be  carries  tbe  body  of  the 
crowd,  unless  another  stump  orator  interferes  and  turns 
tbe  stream  of  sentiment  in  another  direction.  Tbe 
speech  of  Antony  in  Julius  Caesar  is  an  excellent  ex¬ 
ample  of  suggestion. 

All  these  examples  undoubtedly  belong  to  the  prov¬ 
ince  of  suggestion.  How  what  are  their  characteris¬ 
tic  traits  ?  What  are  the  elements  common  to  all  these 
cases  of  suggestion  ?  We  find  in  all  these  instances 
a  stream  of  consciousness  that  goes  on  flowing  in  its 
peculiar,  individual,  idiosyncratic  way ;  suddenly  from 
the  depths  of  the  stream  a  wave  rises  to  the  surface, 
swamps  the  rest  of  the  waves,  overflows  the  banks,  de¬ 
flects  for  a  while  the  course  of  the  current,  and  then 
suddenly  subsides,  disappears,  and  the  stream  resumes 
its  natural  course,  flowing  once  more  in  its  former  bed. 
On  tracing  the  cause  of  this  disturbance,  we  invariably 
find  that  it  is  due  to  some  external  source,  to  some  other 
stream  running  alongside  the  one  disturbed.  Stating 
the  same  in  the  language  of  Baldwin,  we  may  say  that 
“  by  suggestion  is  meant  a  great  class  of  phenomena 
typified  by  the  abrupt  entrance  from  without  into  con¬ 
sciousness — of  an  idea  or  image  which  becomes  a  part 
of  the  stream  of  thought,  and  tends  to  produce  the  mus¬ 
cular  and  volitional  efforts  which  ordinarily  follow  upon 
its  presence.”  * 

Is  this  our  last  say  of  suggestion  ?  Far  from  being 
the  case.  On  closer  inspection  of  our  examples  we  find 
some  more  traits  which  are  of  the  utmost  importance. 
The  subject  accepts  uncritically  the  idea  suggested  to 
him,  and  carries  it  out  almost  automatically.  This  can 


*  Psychology,  yoI.  ii. 


SUGGESTION  AND  SUGGESTIBILITY. 


9 


be  easily  detected  in  nearly  every  instance  of  suggestion, 
but  it  stands  out  especially  clear  and  sharp  in  its  out¬ 
line  in  cases  of  hypnosis. 

I  hypnotized  Mr.  F.,  *  and  commanded  that,  after 
awakening,  when  he  would  hear  me  cough,  he  should 
take  three  oranges  on  the  table  and  give  them  to  my 
friends  who  were  present  at  the  seance.  I  woke  him 
up.  A  few  minutes  later  I  coughed  ;  he  snatched  from 
the  table  the  oranges,  which  were,  in  fact,  nothing  but 
ordinary  potatoes,  and  distributed  them  among  my 
friends.  While  carrying  out  this  post-hypnotic  sugges¬ 
tion  he  appeared  to  he  in  a  peculiar  automatic  condi¬ 
tion.  His  movements  were  hurried,  as  if  some  spring 
was  loosened  in  his  ideo-motor  mechanism ;  his  eyes 
were  dull  and  glassy ;  it  was  plain  he  was  in  a  semicon¬ 
scious  state.  On  my  asking  him  afterward  how  the 
oranges  appeared  to  him  he  replied :  “  They  seemed  to 
me  rather  queer ;  they  were  too  small  and  heavy  for 
oranges.  I  thought  they  were  lemons,  but  I  did  not 
attempt  to  examine  them;  something  impelled  me  to 
carry  out  the  order  and  be  done  with  it.” 

To  take  a  still  better  example  from  the  store  of  my 
hypnotic  experiments :  I  hypnotized  Mr.  F.,  and  sug¬ 
gested  to  him  that  after  awakening,  on  hearing  me 
cough,  he  should  take  the  umbrella,  open  it,  and  prome¬ 
nade  in  the  room  three  times.  I  woke  him  up.  A 
few  minutes  later  I  coughed ;  up  went  his  legs,  but  he 

*  Let  me  say  at  the  outset  that  all  the  subjects  on  whom  I  made 
hypnotic  experiments  were  never  hypnotized  by  any  one  else  before. 
Whatever,  therefore,  occurred  during  hypnosis  was  not  due  to  pre¬ 
vious  suggestive  training  unknown  to  me.  Each  subject  was  fully 
under  my  observation.  I  took  the  precaution  of  isolating  my  sub¬ 
jects  from  extraneous  suggestion.  During  trance  I  suggested  to 
them  that  no  one  should  be  able  to  hypnotize  them.  I  ask  the 
reader  to  bear  this  in  mind. 


10 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  SUGGESTION. 


remained  sitting  in  the  chair.  I  coughed  again ;  once 
more  up  went  his  legs,  but  he  did  not  carry  out  my 
commands.  I  rehypnotized  him,  and  this  time  I 
strongly  and  authoritatively  commanded  him  he  should 
carry  out  my  post-hypnotic  suggestion,  taking  care  to 
suggest  to  him  he  should  forget  everything  that  passed 
during  the  hypnotic  trance.  He  was  awakened,  felt 
well,  conversed  with  his  friends.  While  he  was  en¬ 
gaged  in  conversation  I  went  behind  his  chair  and 
coughed.  Up  he  jumped,  opened  the  umbrella,  and 
walked  in  the  room  three  times.  When  he  was  through 
with  the  suggested  promenade  the  umbrella  dropped 
from  his  hands  on  the  floor,  and,  without  picking  it  up, 
he  sat  down  on  a  chair  and  smiled.  He  remembered 
very  clearly  the  umbrella  aflair,  and  it  seemed  to  him 
queer  and  comical.  I  asked  him  whether  he  knew 
what  he  was  going  to  do  when  he  heard  me  cough. 
“Yes,  I  knew  I  must  do  something — in  a  general  way, 
though.  When  I  took  the  umbrella,  I  do  not  know 
how  it  happened,  but  I  opened  it  and  began  to  walk.” 
I  asked  him  whether  he  knew  how  many  times  he  had 
to  walk,  to  which  he  answered :  “  Ho,  I  did  not  know, 
but  I  kept  on  walking ;  and  when  it  came  to  the  end 
of  the  third  turn,  the  umbrella  dropped  from  my 
hands.” 

I  could  easily  bring  many  more  instances  of  the 
same  type,  but  I  think  that  those  given  will  suffice  for 
our  purpose. 

What  we  find  in  all  these  cases  is  the  uncritical  ac¬ 
ceptance  of  the  ideas  or  actions  suggested,  and  also  the 
motor  automatism  with  which  these  ideas  or  actions  are 
realized.  In  short,  mental  and  motor  automatism  con¬ 
stitute  the  prominent  elements  of  suggestion. 

There  is,  however,  one  more  element  in  suggestion 


SUGGESTION  AND  SUGGESTIBILITY. 


11 


— an  element  which  must  be  taken  into  account,  and 
without  which  our  definition  of  suggestion  will  be  in¬ 
complete.  This  factor,  or  element,  is  the  overcoming 
or  circumventing  of  the  subject’s  opposition.  The 
suggested  idea  is  forced  on  the  stream  of  consciousness ; 
it  is  a  stranger,  an  unwelcome  guest,  a  parasite,  which 
the  subject’s  consciousness  seeks  to  get  rid  of.  The 
stream  of  the  individual’s  consciousness  combats  sug¬ 
gested  ideas  as  the  organism  does  bacteria  and  bacilli 
that  tend  to  disturb  the  stability  of  its  equilibrium. 
It  is  this  opposition  element  that  Dr.  J.  Grossmann  has 
in  mind  when  he  defines  suggestion  as  “  der  Yorgang, 
bei  dem  eine  Vorstellung  sich  einem  Gehirn  aufzuzwin- 
gen  versucht.”  * 

My  friend  would  not  have  rolled  up  his  paper,  nor 
would  Mr.  A.  have  taken  the  glass  and  sipped  the  wa¬ 
ter,  nor  would  Mr.  P.  have  whistled  his  airs,  nor 
would  the  crowd  have  bought  the  articles  of  the  huck¬ 
ster  or  voted  for  certain  political  candidates  had  they 
been  openly  commanded  to  do  so.  They  would  have 
opposed  strenuously  the  suggestion  given  to  them.  It 
was  required  to  devise  means  in  order  to  circumvent 
this  opposition.  The  same  necessity  for  circumven¬ 
tion  of  opposition  we  find  in  post-hypnotic  sugges¬ 
tion.  At  first  the  subject  F.  opposed  the  idea  of 
walking  with  the  umbrella.  When  I  rehypnotized 
him  I  asked  him,  “Why  did  not  you  carry  out  my 
command  ?  ”  The  reply  was,  “ 1  wanted  to  see  whether 
I  could  resist.”  That  this  was  actually  the  case  we  can 
see  from  the  fact  that,  while  his  legs  started  at  the  sig¬ 
nal  and  went  up  to  fulfil  the  order,  Mr.  F.  exclaimed, 
“  I  know  what  you  want  me  to  do,  but  I  will  not  do 


*  Zeitschrift  fiir  Hypnodsmus,  August,  1893. 


12 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  SUGGESTION. 


it.”  This  opposition  was  overcome  only  after  repeated 
and  insistent  injunctions  that  he  must  obey  my  com¬ 
mand. 

The  first  stages  of  hypnosis  are  especially  character¬ 
ized  by  this  spirit  of  opposition,  which,  however,  grad¬ 
ually  slackens  as  the  subject  falls  into  a  deeper  state  of 
hypnosis,  and  completely  disappears  with  the  advent  of 
somnambulism.  To  watch  the  struggle  of  the  mind 
in  its  opposition  to  the  engrafted  suggested  idea  is  of 
intense  interest  to  the  psychologist,  and  of  great  value 
to  a  clearer  comprehension  of  suggestion  itself. 

I  hypnotized  Mr.  J.  F.  With  one  resolute  command 
I  made  him  cataleptic.  “  Rise  !  ”  I  commanded  him.  He 
rose.  “Walk!”  He  walked.  “You  can  not  walk 
forward !  ”  He  tried  to  walk,  but  he  could  not.  “  You 
can  only  walk  backward !  ”  He  began  to  move  back¬ 
ward.  At  the  very  first  sitting  he  seemed  to  have  fallen 
completely  under  my  control  and  to  carry  out  with¬ 
out  any  opposition  all  the  motor  suggestions  given  to 
him.  This,  however,  was  not  really  the  case.  Oppo¬ 
sition  was  there,  only  it  was  ineffective.  As  we  con¬ 
tinued  our  sittings  (and  we  had  many  of  them)  Mr. 
J.  F.  became  more  and  more  intractable,  my  control  over 
him  grew  less  and  less,  and  now  it  is  only  after  great 
exertion  and  repeated  imperative  commands  that  I  am 
enabled  to  bring  him  into  any  cataleptic  condition  at  all. 
The  opposition  or  inhibition  kept  in  abeyance  during 
the  first  seance  asserted  itself  as  the  subject  became 
more  familiar  with  the  hypnotic  condition. 

The  following  experiments  are  still  more  interest¬ 
ing,  as  revealing  to  us  in  the  clearest  way  possible  the 
internal  struggle — the  great  opposition  which  the  con¬ 
sciousness  of  the  subject  shows  to  the  parasitic  sug¬ 
gested  idea : 


SUGGESTION  AND  SUGGESTIBILITY. 


13 


Mr.  L.  falls  into  a  slight  hypnotic  condition — into 
the  first  degree  of  hypnosis ;  he  can  open  his  eyes  if  I 
challenge  him  that  he  is  unable  to  do  it.  Although  his 
hypnosis  is  but  slight,  I  still  tried  on  him  post-hypnotic 
suggestions.  While  he  was  in  the  hypnotic  condition 
I  suggested  to  him  that  after  awakening,  when  he  will 
hear  a  knock,  he  will  go  to  the  table,  take  a  cigarette, 
and  light  it.  I  suggested  to  him  he  should  forget 
everything  that  passed  during  the  hypnosis. 

On  awakening  he  remembered  everything.  I  gave 
a  few  knocks  in  quick  succession.  He  rose  from  his 
chair,  but  immediately  sat  down  again,  and  laughingly 
exclaimed,  “Ho,  I  shall  not  do  it !  ”  “  Do  what  ?  ”  I 

asked.  “ Light  the  cigarette — nonsense!”  “Had  you 
a  strong  desire  to  do  it?”  I  asked  him,  putting  the 
desire  in  the  past,  although  it  was  plain  he  was  still 
struggling  with  it.  He  did  not  answer.  “Did  you 
wish  very  much  to  do  it  ?  ”  I  asked  again.  “  Hot  very 
much,”  he  answered  curtly  and  evasively. 

On  another  occasion  I  hypnotized  Mr.  L.  by  the 
method  of  fascination.*  He  seemed  to  have  fallen 
into  a  slightly  deeper  hypnotic  condition  than  usual. 
The  post-hypnotic  suggestion  was  to  light  the  gas,  and 
also  complete  amnesia.  On  awakening  he  remembered 
everything  that  passed  during  hypnosis.  He  ridiculed 
the  post-hypnotic  suggestions  I  gave  him.  After  a 
few  minutes’  conversation,  without  my  giving  the  sug¬ 
gestion  signal,  which  was  to  be  a  knock,  I  left  the 
room  for  a  few  moments — for  five  or  ten  seconds. 
When  I  returned  I  found  him  lighting  the  gas. 
“  What  are  you  doing  that  for,  Mr.  L.  ?  ”  I  asked. 

*  Ordinarily  I  use  the  method  of  Nancy ;  it  is  the  most  con¬ 
venient  and  pleasant  way  of  hypnotization,  as  it  requires  no  strain 
on  the  side  of  the  subject. 


14 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  SUGGESTION. 


“  To  feel  easier,”  he  answered ;  “  I  felt  somewhat  un¬ 
easy.”  Evidently  the  post-hypnotic  suggestion  took 
deep  root  in  his  mind.  He  struggled  hard  against  it,  to 
put  it  down,  to  suppress  it ;  and  it  was  due  to  this  fact 
that  he  attempted  to  counteract  the  suggested  idea  by 
ridiculing  it.  As  long  as  I  was  in  the  room  he  wanted 
to  show  the  energy  of  his  will,  and  he  struggled  hard 
against  the  insistent  idea,  keeping  it  at  bay ;  but  when  I 
left  the  room  one  of  the  motives  of  resisting  the  sug¬ 
gestion  was  removed,  and  the  struggle  became  an  un¬ 
equal  one.  The  insistent  parasitic  idea  asserted  itself 
with  greater  force  than  before,  and  this  time,  not  meet¬ 
ing  with  such  a  strenuous  opposition,  it  gained  the 
upper  hand  and  realized  itself  completely. 

To  take  one  more  instance  of  the  many  sittings  I 
had  with  Mr.  L.  I  hypnotized  him  once  in  the  pres¬ 
ence  of  two  acquaintances  of  mine,  and  gave  him  a 
post-hypnotic  suggestion  to  take  from  the  table  a  box 
of  matches  and  light  the  gas.  This  he  had  to  do  when 
hearing  me  cough.  I  woke  him  up,  and  as  soon  as  he 
heard  me  cough  he  started  up  from  his  chair,  looked 
hard  at  the  box  of  matches,  but  did  not  take  it.  He 
went  up  to  the  window,  put  his  head  against  the  window 
pane,  and  seemed  to  be  engaged  in  a  severe  struggle 
against  the  insistent  suggested  idea.  How  and  then  one 
could  perceive  a  slight  shudder  passing  over  his  entire 
body,  thus  making  almost  palpably  evident  the  inner, 
restless,  contentious  state  of  his  consciousness.  Again 
and  again  the  suggested  idea  cropped  up  in  his  mind, 
and  again  and  again  it  was  suppressed ;  now  the  sugges¬ 
tion  gained  ground,  and  now  once  more  it  was  beaten 
and  driven  back  into  the  obscure  regions  from  which  it 
came.  I  then  rehypnotized  him,  strongly  emphasized 
my  suggestion,  and  then  awakened  him.  I  slightly 


SUGGESTION  AND  SUGGESTIBILITY. 


15 


coughed.  This  time  the  suggested  idea  got  a  stronger 
hold  of  his  mind.  Mr.  L.  rose  from  his  chair,  took  the 
box  of  matches,  kept  it  in  his  hand  for  a  second  or  two, 
and  threw  it  resolutely  on  the  table.  “No,”  he  ex¬ 
claimed,  “  I  will  not  do  it !  ” 

Such  cases  might  be  multiplied  by  the  hundreds, 
but  I  think  that  the  hypnotic  experiments  made  on  my 
subjects  L.  and  J.  F.  will  suffice  for  our  purpose.  They 
show  most  clearly  that  the  trait  of  opposition  is  an  in¬ 
gredient  of  suggestion.  This  opposition  element  varies 
with  the  state  of  mind  of  the  individual.  What  the 
nature  of  this  variation  is  we  shall  see  later  on ;  mean¬ 
while  the  present  stage  of  our  discussion  fully  enables  us 
to  formulate  a  definition  of  suggestion  and  suggestibility. 

By  suggestion  is  meant  the  intrusion  into  the  mind 
of  an  idea ;  met  with  more  or  less  opposition  by  the 
person ;  accepted  uncritically  at  last ;  and  realized  un- 
reflectively,  almost  automatically. 

By  suggestibility  is  meant  that  peculiar  state  of 
mind  which  is  favourable  to  suggestion.* 

#  The  psycho-physiological  state  of  suggestion  I  term  suggesti¬ 
bility.  By  “  suggestibility  of  a  factor  ”  is  meant  the  power  of  the 
factor  to  induce  the  psycho-physiological  state  of  suggestion  of  a 
certain  degree  of  intensity,  the  suggestiveness  of  the  factor  being 
measured  by  the  degree  of  suggestibility  induced. 


CHAPTER  II. 


THE  CLASSIFICATION  OF  SUGGESTION  AND  SUGGESTIBILITY. 

Once  the  subject-matter  under  investigation  is  de¬ 
fined,  we  must  proceed  to  a  further  subdivision  of  it ; 
we  must  define  and  classify  the  different  species  of  sug¬ 
gestion  and  suggestibility.  Already  in  our  last  chap¬ 
ter,  in  adducing  different  cases  of  suggestion,  suggesti¬ 
bility  in  the  normal  state  was  tacitly  implied.  W e  have 
now  reached  a  stage  in  our  discussion  in  which  we  must 
state  this  fact  more  explicitly.  The  soil  favourable  for 
the  seeds  of  suggestion  exists  also  in  what  we  call  the 
normal  individual.  Suggestibility  is  present  in  what 
we  call  the  normal  state,  and  in  order  to  reveal  it  we 
must  only  know  how  to  tap  it.  The  suggestible  ele¬ 
ment  is  a  constituent  of  our  nature ;  it  never  leaves  us ; 
it  is  always  present  in  us.  Before  Janet,  Binet,  and 
many  other  investigators  undertook  the  study  of  hys¬ 
terical  subjects,  no  one  suspected  the  existence  of  those 
remarkable  phenomena  of  double  consciousness  that 
opened  for  us  new  regions  in  the  psychical  life  of  man. 
These  phenomena  were  merely  not  noticed,  although 
present  all  the  while ;  and  when  at  times  they  rose  from 
their  obscurity,  came  to  light,  and  obtruded  themselves 
on  the  attention  of  people,  they  were  either  put  down  as 
sorcery,  witchcraft,  or  classed  contemptuously  with  lying, 

cheating,  and  deception.  The  same  is  true  with  regard 

16 


CLASSIFICATION  OF  SUGGESTION. 


17 


to  normal  suggestibility.  It  rarely  attracts  our  attention, 
as  it  manifests  itself  in  but  trifling  things.  When,  how¬ 
ever,  it  rises  to  the  surface  and  with  the  savage  fury  of 
a  hurricane  cripples  and  maims  on  its  way  everything 
it  can  not  destroy,  menaces  life,  and  throws  social  order 
into  the  wildest  confusion  possible,  we  put  it  down  as 
mobs.  We  do  not  in  the  least  suspect  that  the  awful, 
destructive,  automatic  spirit  of  the  mob  moves  in  the 
bosom  of  the  peaceful  crowd,  reposes  in  the  heart  of 
the  quiet  assembly,  and  slumbers  in  the  breast  of  the 
law-abiding  citizen.  We  do  not  suspect  that  the  spirit 
of  suggestibility  lies  hidden  even  in  the  best  of  men ; 
like  the  evil  jinnee  of  the  Arabian  tales  is  corked  up  in 
the  innocent-looking  bottle.  Deep  down  in  the  nature 
of  man  we  find  hidden  the  spirit  of  suggestibility. 
Every  one  of  us  is  more  or  less  suggestible.  Man  is 
often  defined  as  a  social  animal.  This  definition  is  no 
doubt  true,  but  it  conveys  little  information  as  to  the 
psychical  state  of  each  individual  within  society.  There 
exists  another  definition  which  claims  to  give  an  insight 
into  the  nature  of  man,  and  that  is  the  well-known  an¬ 
cient  view  that  man  is  a  rational  animal ;  but  this  defi¬ 
nition  breaks  down  as  soon  as  we  come  to  test  it  by  facts 
of  life,  for  it  scarcely  holds  true  of  the  vast  multitudes 
of  mankind.  ISTot  sociality,  not  rationality,  but  sug¬ 
gestibility  is  what  characterizes  the  average  specimen 
of  humanity,  for  man  is  a  suggestible  animal. 

The  fact  of  suggestibility  existing  in  the  normal  in¬ 
dividual  is  of  the  highest  importance  in  the  theoretical 
field  of  knowledge,  in  psychology,  sociology,  ethics, 
history,  as  well  as  in  practical  life,  in  education,  politics, 
and  economics ;  and  since  this  fact  of  suggestibility  may 
be  subject  to  doubt  on  account  of  its  seeming  paradoxi¬ 
calness,  it  must  therefore  be  established  on  a  firm  basis 


18 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  SUGGESTION. 


by  a  rigorous  experimentation,  and  I  have  taken  great 
pains  to  prove  this  fact  satisfactorily.  The  evidence  for 
the  existence  of  normal  suggestibility  I  shall  adduce  later 
on  in  our  discussion ;  meanwhile  I  ask  the  reader  to  take 
it  on  trust,  sincerely  hoping  that  he  will  at  the  end  be 
perfectly  satisfied  with  the  demonstration  of  its  truth. 

The  presence  of  suggestibility  in  such  states  as  the 
hysterical  and  the  hypnotic  is  a  fact  well  proved  and 
attested,  and  I  think  there  is  no  need  to  say  a  word  in 
its  defence.  Since  the  hysterical,  the  hypnotic,  the 
somnambulic  states  do  not  belong  to  the  routine  of  our 
experience;  since  they  are  but  rare  and  occur  under 
special  peculiar  conditions ;  since  they  unfit  one  for  so¬ 
cial  life,  disable  in  the  struggle  for  existence,  I  think 
the  reader  will  not  quarrel  with  me  for  naming  such 
states  abnormal. 

Thus  it  becomes  quite  clear  that  suggestibility  must 
be  classed  under  two  heads :  (1)  Suggestibility  in  the 
normal  state,  or  normal  suggestibility,  and  (2)  suggesti¬ 
bility  in  the  abnormal  state,  or  abnormal  suggestibility. 

Turning  now  to  suggestion,  we  find  that  it  can  be 
easily  subdivided  and  classified  according  to  the  mode 
it  is  effected  in  consciousness.  Concrete  examples  will 
best  illustrate  my  meaning.  The  hypnotizer  commands 
his  subject  to  walk ;  the  latter  walks.  He  raises  the 
hand  of  the  patient,  and  it  remains  uplifted  in  a  con¬ 
tracted  cataleptic  condition.  The  hypnotizer  tells  the 
subject  that  after  awakening,  when  he  will  hear  a  knock, 
he  will  take  off  his  coat  and  dance  a  polka,  and  the  sub¬ 
ject,  on  awakening  and  perceiving  the  signal,  fulfils  the 
order  most  faithfully.  In  cases  like  these  the  experi¬ 
menter  gives  his  orders  or  suggestions  directly ,  without 
beating  round  the  bush,  without  any  circumlocution, 
without  any  evasions.  In  a  plain  and  brusque  manner 


CLASSIFICATION  OF  SUGGESTION. 


19 


does  the  hypnotizer  give  his  suggestion,  so  much  so 
that  it  partakes  of  the  nature  of  an  imperative  command 
issued  by  the  order  of  the  highest  authority  from  which 
there  is  no  appeal.  The  essential  feature  here,  how¬ 
ever,  is  not  so  much  the  authoritativeness,  for  in  many 
cases  it  may  be  totally  absent,  and  a  courteous,  bland 
way  of  expression  may  be  used ;  not  so  much  the  au¬ 
thoritativeness,  I  say,  as  the  plainness,  the  directness 
with  which  the  suggestion  is  given.  Such  a  suggestion 
we  may  designate  as  direct  suggestion . 

Suggestions  may  also  be  given  in  quite  a  different 
way.  Instead  of  openly  telling  the  subject  what  he 
should  do,  the  experimenter  produces  some  object,  or 
makes  a  movement,  a  gesture,  which  in  their  own  silent 
fashion  tell  the  subject  what  to  do.  To  illustrate  it  by 
a  few  examples,  so  as  to  make  my  meaning  clearer :  I 
stretch  out  the  hand  of  the  hypnotic  subject  and  make 
it  rigid,  and  while  doing  this  I  press  his  arm  with  an 
iron  rod.  In  the  next  seance  as  soon  as  the  iron  rod 
touches  the  arm  the  hand  becomes  rigid.  I  tell  the  sub¬ 
ject  to  spell  the  word  “  Napoleon,”  and  when  he  comes 
to  “  p  ”  I  stretch  out  my  hand  and  make  it  stiff ;  the  sub¬ 
ject  begins  to  stammer ;  the  muscles  of  his  lips  spas¬ 
modically  contract  and  stiffen.  Dr.  Tuckey  brings  a 
case  of  suggestion  given  by  him  unintentionally  in  such 
an  indirect  way.  He  hypnotized  a  physician  and  or¬ 
dered  him  to  wake  up  in  a  quarter  of  an  hour.  He 
then  left  the  room  for  about  half  an  hour,  being  sure  that 
in  the  meantime  the  subject  would  come  back  to  himself. 
When  he  returned  he  was  surprised  to  find  the  patient 
still  sitting  in  the  chair,  and  in  the  most  distressed 
condition  possible.  The  patient  could  not  recover  his 
speech ;  his  jaws  were  firmly  shut.  Dr.  Tuckey  thinks 
that  while  hypnotizing  he  inadvertently  passed  his  hands 


20 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  SUGGESTION. 


over  the  mouth  of  the  subject,  and  this  was  taken  as  a 
suggestion  to  keep  the  mouth  firmly  shut.  My  friend 
who  drank  the  glass  of  water  on  account  of  my  sug¬ 
gestive  movements;  Mr.  P.,  whom  Prof.  Ochorowitz 
suggested  to  whistle  certain  airs ;  the  crowd  that  was 
induced  by  the  politician  by  means  of  flattery  and  talk 
of  business  prosperity  to  vote  for  the  party  whose  cause 
he  advocated — all  these  are  good  cases  of  this  type  of 
suggestion.  This  mode  of  influencing  the  mind  plays  a 
great  part  in  the  history  of  humanity,  and  is  therefore  of 
great  importance  in  sociology.  Such  a  kind  of  sugges¬ 
tion  may  be  properly  designated  as  indirect  suggestion . 

Suggestion  partakes  of  the  nature  of  reflex  action. 
This  truth  was  implied  in  our  discussion  of  the  last 
chapter,  and  in  the  definition  of  suggestion  we  finally 
arrived  at.  And  authorities  are  not  lacking  who  go  to 
support  the  same  view.  “  Eine  sorgfaltige  Beobach- 
tung,”  writes  Prof.  Forel,  “  der  Bedingungen  der  Sug¬ 
gestibility  bringt  uns  immer  wieder  auf  die  relativ  Buhe 
des  Gehirns  zuriick,  auf  einen  plastischen  Zustand  des- 
selben  oder  wenigstens  eines  Theiles  desselben,  worm 
die  Vorstell  ungen  eine  schwachere  Kraft  oder  Tendenz 
haben  sich  zu  associiren  und  deshalb  leichter  dem  von 
aussen  commenden  Impuls  folgen.”  “Der  Mechanis- 
mus  (der  Suggestion),”  writes  Dr.  Bernheim,  “  ist  ein 
physiologischer  Mechanismus  dessen  Realisation  sich  mit 
den  Eigenschaften  unseres  Him  ganz  gut  vereinbarn 
lasst.*  What  Dr.  Bernheim  means  to  say  here  is  that 
suggestion  partakes  of  the  nature  of  the  reflex  and 
automatic  activity  that  characterizes  the  physiological 
mechanism  in  general.  He  makes  himself  more  ex¬ 
plicit  in  another  place.  “  The  mechanism  of  eugges- 


*  Zeitschrift  fur  Hypnotismus,  Januar,  1893. 


CLASSIFICATION  OF  SUGGESTION. 


21 


tion,”  he  writes  in  his  book  Suggestive  Therapeutics, 
“  may  be  summed  up  in  the  following  formula :  In¬ 
crease  of  the  reflex  ideo-motor,  ideo -sensitive,  and  ideo- 
sensorial  excitability.” 

Goumey  tells  us  in  his  simple  straightforward  way 
that  the  mechanism  of  “  suggestion  is  conscious  reflex 
action.”  *  As  reflex  action  of  consciousness,  suggestion 
has  a  double  aspect :  afferent,  centripetal,  or  sensory,  and 
efferent,  centrifugal,  or  motor.  This  ;is  perfectly  obvi¬ 
ous,  for  in  suggestion  we  deal,  on  the  one  hand,  with  the 
impression  of  the  suggested  idea  on  the  mind  and  its 
acceptance  by  consciousness  ;  this  is  the  afferent,  sensory 
side  of  suggestion ;  and,  on  the  other  hand,  with  the 
realization  of  the  accepted  idea;  this  is  the  efferent, 
motor  side  of  suggestion.  The  process  of  suggestion 
may  therefore  be  represented  in  the  form  of  an  arc, 
which  may  be  called  the  suggestion  arc.  It  is  quite  clear 
that  in  classifying  suggestion  as  direct  and  indirect,  we 
had  solely  in  view  the  afferent,  the  sensory  aspect  of 
suggestion.  If  now  we  regard  suggestion  from  the  other 
aspect,  from  the  efferent  or  motor  aspect,  we  find  that 
suggestion  is  subject  to  another  subdivision.  Concrete 
instances  will  bring  out  this  subdivision  most  clearly. 

The  experimenter  suggests  to  the  subject  to  turn 
over  the  chair  and  sit  down  near  it  on  the  floor.  This 
is  faithfully  and  immediately  carried  out  by  the  sub¬ 
ject.  The  experimenter  raises  the  patient’s  arm  and 
bends  it ;  immediately  the  arm  becomes  stiff,  rigid,  cata¬ 
leptic.  The  suggested  idea  impressed  on  the  brain  is 
immediately  discharged  into  the  motor  tracts.  The 
same  holds  true  of  post-hypnotic  or  deferred  sugges¬ 
tion.  The  idea  suggested  or  the  order  given  is  present 


*  Mind,  Oct.,  1884. 


22 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  SUGGESTION. 


in  the  mind,  only  there  is  present  a  suggested  obstacle 
to  its  motor  discharge;  but  as  soon  as  some  kind  of 
suggested  signal  is  perceived,  the  obstacle  is  removed 
and  the  idea  immediately  discharges  itself  along  the 
motor  tracts.  I  hypnotized  one  of  my  subjects,  Mr. 
F.,  and  ordered  him  that  on  awakening,  when  he 
hears  me  cough,  he  shall  put  out  the  gas.  I  woke  him 
up.  He  remained  quietly  sitting  in  his  chair,  waiting, 
as  it  seemed,  for  my  signal.  He  himself,  however,  was 
not  in  the  least  conscious  of  it ;  for  when  his  brother 
asked  him  whether  he  would  like  to  go  home,  as  it 
was  rather  late,  he  answered  in  the  negative.  I  then 
coughed,  and  Mr.  F.  immediately  rushed  for  the  light 
and  put  it  out.  What  we  find  here  is  the  literal  carry¬ 
ing  out  of  the  suggested  idea.  This  kind  of  suggestion 
the  realization  of  which  bears  a  direct  and  immediate 
relation  to  the  suggested  object  or  act  is,  of  course,  also 
present  in  normal  suggestibility,  as  in  the  case  of  the 
buyer  who  chooses  the  goods  suggested  to  him  by  the 
salesman  or  huckster,  as  in  the  case  of  the  citizen  who 
votes  for  the  unknown  candidate  suggested  to  him  by 
the  politician.  In  short,  when  there  is  full  and  com¬ 
plete  realization  of  the  idea  or  order  suggested,  direct¬ 
ly  or  indirectly,  we  have  that  kind  of  suggestion  which 
I  designate  as  immediate. 

Instead,  however,  of  immediately  taking  the  hint 
and  fully  carrying  it  into  execution,  the  subject  may 
realize  something  else,  either  what  is  closely  allied 
with  the  idea  suggested  or  what  is  connected  with  it  by 
association  of  contiguity.  A  suggestion  is  given  to  the 
subject  that  when  he  wakes  up  he  will  see  a  tiger.  He 
is  awakened,  and  sees  a  big  cat.  The  subject  is  suggested 
that  on  awakening  he  will  steal  the  pocketbook  lying 
on  the  table.  When  aroused  from  the  hypnotic  state 


CLASSIFICATION  OF  SUGGESTION. 


23 


he  goes  up  to  the  table,  does  not  take  the  pocketbook, 
but  the  pencil  that  lies  close  to  it.  The  buyer  does 
not  always  choose  the  precise  thing  which  the  sales¬ 
man  suggests,  but  some  other  thing  closely  allied  to 
it.  In  case  the  suggestion  is  not  successful,  it  is  still, 
as  a  rule,  realized  in  some  indirect  and  mediate  way. 
Man  is  not  always  doing  what  has  been  suggested  to  him ; 
he  sometimes  obeys  not  the  suggested  idea  itself,  but  some 
other  idea  associated  with  the  former  by  contiguity,  simi¬ 
larity,  or  contrast.  Suggestion  by  contrast  is  especially 
interesting,  as  it  often  gives  rise  to  counter-suggestion. 
Now  such  kind  of  suggestion,  where  not  the  suggested 
idea  itself  but  the  one  associated  with  it  is  realized,  I 
designate  as  mediate. 

Thus  we  have  four  kinds  of  suggestion : 

(a)  Direct.  ( d)  Immediate. 

(b)  Indirect.  (e)  Mediate. 

The  classification  of  suggestion  and  suggestibility 
may  be  represented  in  terms  of  the  suggestion  arc  in 
the  following  diagrammatic  form : 


SUGGESTIBILITY 


CHAPTER  III. 


THE  EVIDENCE  OF  NORMAL  SUGGESTIBILITY. 

In  our  last  chapter  we  ventured  to  generalize  that 
every  man  in  his  full  normal  waking  state  is  more  or 
less  suggestible.  I  should  not  wonder  if  such  a  seem¬ 
ingly  sweeping  generalization  should  startle  many  a 
cautious  reader,  and  should  call  forth  strenuous  opposi¬ 
tion.  We  must  therefore  rigorously  demonstrate  the 
fact  of  the  universality  of  normal  suggestibility.  Such 
a  proof  is  of  the  more  importance,  as  the  generalization 
which  it  establishes  supplies  a  new  principle  to  sociol¬ 
ogy,  furnishes  a  key  to  the  comprehension  of  many  a 
great  historical  event,  gives  a  deeper  insight  into  the 
phenomena  of  political  and  economical  life,  and  might 
possibly  be  of  use  in  education.  Is  there  such  a  thing 
as  suggestibility  in  the  normal  waking  condition  ?  The 
Haney  school,  with  Bernheim  and  Liebault  at  its  head, 
gives  an  affirmative  answer.  “  Jemanden  hypnotisiren,” 
says  Bernheim,  “  heisst  nur :  seine  Suggestibility  kiinst- 
lich  erhohen.”  In  fact,  the  hypnotic  state  itself  is  in¬ 
duced  by  suggestion.  “  Es  giebt  keinen  Hypnotismus : 
es  giebt  nur  Phanomene  der  Suggestion,”  exclaims  the 
Haney  professor.  “  Als  etwas  pathologisches,  als  eine 
kiinstliche  Heurose  betrachtet  existirt  ein  Hypnotismus 
nicht.  Wir  schaffen  im  eigentlichen  Sinne  mit  ihm 
keinen  besonderen  Zustand  des  Gehirns  oder  des  Her- 

_  24 


THE  EVIDENCE  OF  NORMAL  SUGGESTIBILITY.  25 


vensystems ;  wir  machen  uns  ganz  einfach  nur  eine  phy- 
siologische  Eigenthumlichkeit  des  Gehirns — die  Sugges- 
tibilitat — zu  JSTutze  und  schaffen  die  zur  Entfaltung 
dieser  Suggestibility  giinstigen  Vorbedingungen.”  On 
closer  inspection,  however,  we  find  that  the  great  au¬ 
thority  of  the  Nancy  school  stretches  too  wide  and  far 
the  conception  of  suggestion,  for,  according  to  him, 
“  Jede  Vorstellung  ist  eine  Suggestion.”  This,  I  say,  is 
too  far-fetched ;  for  it  is  to  identify  the  whole  field  of 
mental  activity  with  but  a  part  of  it,  namely,  suggesti¬ 
bility.  This  is,  in  fact,  the  obliteration  of  all  traces  of 
the  problem  itself.  If  now  we  turn  and  ask  for  facts 
that  go  to  support  his  view,  we  find  that  Bernlieim  does 
not  sustain  his  cause.  He  limits  his  instances  to  but  a 
small  class  of  persons  who  are  easily  suggestible  in  their 
waking  state,  but  he  offers  no  proof  that  suggestibility 
is  present  in  all  men.  “  Es  giebt  Menschen  bei  denen 
.  .  .  die  einfache  Affirmation,  ohne  Schlaf  und  ohne 
vorhergehende  ihn  begunstigende  Manipulationen  bei 
ihnen  alle  sogenannten  hypnotischen  Phenomena  her- 
vorruft.  Durch  das  einfache  Wort  schafft  man  bei 
ihnen  Anasthesia,  Contractur,  Hallucinationen,  Im- 
puls,  die  verschiedensten  Handlungen.”  * 

Although  the  instances  Prof.  Bernheim  adduces  do 
not  certainly  establish  the  fact  of  the  universality  of 
normal  suggestibility,  they  are  still  interesting  for  us 
as  they  show  the  presence  of  normal  suggestibility  in 
some  particular  cases  at  least.  “  Many  subjects,”  writes 
Bernheim  in  his  Suggestive  Therapeutics,  “who  have 
previously  been  hypnotized  may  manifest  susceptibility 
to  the  same  suggestive  phenomena  in  the  waking  state, 
without  being  again  hypnotized,  however  slightly  might 


*  Zeitschrift,  Januar,  1894. 


26 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  SUGGESTION. 


have  been  the  influence  of  a  small  number  of  previous 
seances.  Here,  for  example,  is  the  case  of  K.,  one 
of  my  patients  who  is  accustomed  to  being  hypnotized, 
and  is  subject  to  light  somnambulism.  Without  put¬ 
ting  him  to  sleep,  I  say  directly :  4  Close  your  hand. 
You  can  not  open  it  again.’  He  keeps  his  hand  closed 
and  contracted,  and  makes  fruitless  efforts  to  open  it. 
I  make  him  hold  out  his  other  arm,  with  his  hand  open, 
and  say,  4  You  can  not  shut  it.’  He  tries  in  vain  to  do 
so ;  brings  the  phalanges  into  semiflexion,  but  can  do 
no  more  in  spite  of  every  effort.  There  is  in  my  serv¬ 
ice  a  young  hysterical  girl  afflicted  with  sensitivo-sen- 
sorial  hemiangesthesia  of  the  left  side,  and  capable  of 
being  hypnotized  into  deep  sleep.  In  the  waking  condi¬ 
tion  she  is  susceptible  to  catalepsy  or  suggestive  contrac¬ 
tion.  I  can  effect  transfer  of  the  hemiangesthesia  from  the 
left  to  the  right  side  without  hypnotizing  and  without 
touching  her.  In  one  of  my  somnambulistic  cases  I  can 
obtain  all  possible  modifications  of  sensibility  in  the  wak¬ 
ing  condition.  It  suffices  to  say, 4  Your  left  side  is  insen' 
sible  ’ ;  then  if  I  prick  his  left  arm  with  a  pin,  stick  the 
pin  into  his  nostril,  touch  the  mucous  membrane  of  his 
eye,  or  tickle  his  throat,  he  does  not  move.  The  other  side 
of  his  body  reacts.  I  transfer  the  angesthesia  from  the 
left  to  the  right  side.  I  produce  total  angesthesia,  which 
was  on  one  occasion  so  profound  that  my  chef  de  cli- 
nique  pulled  out  the  roots  of  five  teeth  which  were 
deeply  embedded  in  the  gums,  twisting  them  round  in 
their  sockets  for  more  than  ten  minutes.  I  simply  said 
to  the  patient,  4  You  will  have  no  feeling  whatever.’ 
He  laughed  as  he  spat  out  the  blood,  and  did  not  show 
the  least  symptom  of  pain.” 

Here,  as  we  see,  the  experiments  were  carried  on 
with  somnambulic  and  hysterical  subjects;  the  result, 


THE  EVIDENCE  OF  NORMAL  SUGGESTIBILITY.  27 


therefore,  can  not  prove  the  facts  of  suggestibility  in 
normal  and  perfectly  healthy  people.  Some  of  my  own 
experiments  might  possibly  prove  more  conclusive.  Mr. 
W.,  an  acquaintance  of  mine,  who  was  never  hypno¬ 
tized  by  anyone,  readily  took  suggestions  in  his  waking 
state.  I  told  him  he  could  not  write  his  name.  He 
tried,  and  he  did  write  it.  I  stretched  out  my  arm, 
opened  my  hand  and  stiffened  the  fingers,  and  said, 
“  Try  now.”  He  could  not  write — his  hand  became 
cataleptic.  I  made  a  whole  series  of  experiments  of 
this  kind,  but  as  they  interested  me  from  quite  a  differ¬ 
ent  point  of  view  I  shall  give  a  detailed  account  of 
them  later  on.  Meanwhile  this  one  instance  will  suffice 
for  our  present  purpose  to  show  the  power  of  sugges¬ 
tion  in  the  waking  state.  The  fact,  however,  of  its 
rarity  and  singularity  makes  it  unfit  to  prove  the  uni¬ 
versality  of  normal  suggestibility. 

In  the  Zeitschrift  fur  Hypnotismus  *  Prof.  J.  Del- 
boeuf  brings  cases  of  suggestibility  in  normal  condition. 
Thus  he  made  a  patient  anaesthetic  who  was  not  and 
could  not  be  hypnotized.  He  told  the  patient :  “  Bei- 
chen  Sie  mir  Ihren  Arm,  sehen  Sie  mich  fest  an  und 
zeigen  Sie  mir  durch  Ihren  Blick,  dass  Sie  entschlossen 
sind,  nichts  zu  fiihlen,  und  Sie  werden  thatsachlich  nichts 
fiihlen.”  The  patient  did  it.  Prof.  Delboeuf  severely 
pricked  the  subject’s  arm,  and  the  latter  felt  no  pain. 

To  take  another  case.  An  old  man  of  seventy  suf- 
ered  great  pain  from  facial  neuralgia  for  more  than  fif¬ 
teen  years.  “  Ich  komme  zu  ihm,”  says  Prof.  Delboeuf ; 
“  ziehe  ihn  heftig  am  Bart  und  erklare  ihm,  dass  er  keine 
Schmerzen  mehr  hat,  dass  er  auch  ferner  keine  Schmer- 
zen  haben  wird,  und  meine  Prophezeihung  erfullt  sich.” 


*  November  and  December,  1892. 


28 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  SUGGESTION. 


These  cases,  like  the  preceding  one,  are  subject  to  the 
same  objections ;  they  do  not  prove  the  universality  of 
normal  suggestibility  on  account  of  their  rarity  and 
singularity.  Not  every  one  can  so  easily  be  made  cata¬ 
leptic  or  anaesthetic  in  his  waking  condition.  With 
most  people  such  suggestions  are  failures  even  in  hyp¬ 
nosis.  The  only  way,  then,  to  test  the  verity  of  normal 
suggestibility  is  to  lay  aside  all  experimentation  on  hys¬ 
terical,  somnambulic,  hypnotic,  and  extraordinarily  sug¬ 
gestible  subjects,  and  start  a  series  of  experiments  on 
perfectly  healthy  and  normal  individuals.  Thanks  to 
Prof.  H.  Munsterberg  and  to  the  admirable  facilities 
afforded  by  the  Psychological  Laboratory  of  Harvard 
University  and  the  Pathological  Institute  of  the  New 
York  State  Hospitals,  I  was  enabled  to  carry  out  more 
than  eight  thousand  experiments  relating  to  the  subject 
of  suggestion. 

The  order  of  experiments  taken  up  first  was  sugges¬ 
tion  of  letters  and  figures. 

The  mechanism  of  this  class  of  experiments  was  as 
follows  :  A  successive  series  of  letters  or  of  figures  was 
introduced  through  a  slit  on  a  white  screen,  each  letter 
or  figure  being  pasted  on  a  separate  slip  of  cardboard 
which  in  colour  and  position  coincided  with  the  back¬ 
ground  of  the  screen.  Each  experiment  consisted  of  a 
series  of  nine  slips.  Each  slip  was  kept  on  the  back¬ 
ground  for  two  or  three  seconds.  The  interval  between 
the  slip  and  its  successor  was  also  two  or  three  seconds. 
Time  was  measured  by  a  metronome  inclosed  within  a 
felt  box,  with  a  rubber  tube  passing  close  to  the  ear  of 
the  experimenter,  so  that  the  subjects  should  not  be  dis¬ 
turbed  by  the  ticking  of  the  metronome.  For  the  same 
reason  the  experimenter  and  his  movements  of  inserting 
the  slips  into  the  white  screen  were  all  carefully  hidden 


THE  EVIDENCE  OF  NORMAL  SUGGESTIBILITY.  29 


by  screens.  The  ring  of  a  bell  indicated  that  the  series 
came  to  an  end,  and  it  also  served  as  a  signal  for  the 
subjects  to  write  down  immediately  on  paper  which 
they  kept  ready  in  their  hands  anything  that  came  into 
their  mind  at  that  particular  moment — letters,  numerals, 
words,  phrases,  etc. 

While  looking  for  evidence  for  normal  suggesti¬ 
bility,  an  opportunity  was  also  taken  to  arrange  the  ex¬ 
periments  according  to  different  factors,  so  that  should 
it  be  proved  that  suggestion  in  the  normal  state  is  an 
indubitable  fact,  we  should  be  enabled  to  know  what 
kind  of  factors  are  the  more  impressive  and  sug¬ 
gestive. 

The  series  of  letters  and  figures  were  arranged  ac¬ 
cording  to  the  following  factors  and  their  combi¬ 
nations  : 

1.  Repetition. 

2.  Frequency. 

3.  Coexistence. 

4.  Last  impression. 

Great  care,  of  course,  was  taken  not  to  repeat  the 
same  series  of  letters  or  figures.  As  I  had  many  slips 
at  my  disposal  the  series  could  be  easily  changed  both 
by  permutation  and  insertion  of  new  slips.  The  sub¬ 
jects  did  not  and  could  not  possibly  suspect  the  sug¬ 
gested  letter  or  figure,  first,  because  there  were  so  many 
of  them  in  each  series ;  second,  because  the  factors 
studied  were  constantly  varied ;  and,  third,  because 
sham  series,  such  as  inverted  or  coloured  letters,  etc., 
were  introduced  so  as  to  baffie  the  subjects. 

I  had  twelve  subjects  at  my  disposal,  and  experi¬ 
mented  with  three  or  four  at  a  time.  Recently  I  made 
experiments  of  this  kind  with  thirteen  subjects  more, 
so  that  the  total  number  of  subjects  is  twenty -five. 


30 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  SUGGESTION. 


The  results  are  as  follows  : 

1.  Repetition. — In  the  middle  of  the  series  a  letter 
or  numeral  was  shown  three  times  in  succession — e.  g. : 


B 

E 

K 

M 

M 

M 

]sr 

o 

p 


or 


3 

6 

8 

5 

5 

5 

7 

2 

9 


Of  300  experiments  made,  53  succeeded — that  is,  the 
subject  wrote  the  letter  or  numeral  suggested  by  the 
factor  of  repetition. 

The  factor  of  repetition  gives  a  suggestibility  of  17*6 
per  cent. 

2.  Frequency. — A  letter  or  numeral  was  shown 
three  times  in  the  series,  and  each  time  with  an  inter¬ 


ruption — e.  g. : 

B  5 

K  3 

E  7 

K  3 

M  or  9 

K  3 

C  4 

R  8 

D  6 


Of  300  experiments  made,  128  succeeded. 

The  factor  of  frequency  gives  a  suggestibility  of  42*6 
per  cent. 

3.  Coexistence. — A  letter  or  numeral  was  shown 
repeatedly ;  not,  however,  in  succession,  as  it  was  in  the 


THE  EVIDENCE  OF  NORMAL  SUGGESTIBILITY.  31 


case  of  the  factor  of  repetition,  also  not  with  interrup¬ 
tions  as  it  was  in  the  case  of  frequency,  but  at  the  same 
time — e.  g. : 


E  1 

C  2 

D  6 

EER  or  7  7  7 
M  5 

L  3 

A  9 

F  8 


Of  300  experiments  made,  only  20  succeeded. 

The  factor  of  coexistence  gives  as  its  power  of  sug¬ 
gestion  6*6  per  cent. 

4.  Last  Impression. — Here  was  studied  the  suggesti¬ 
bility  effected  by  the  last  impression,  by  the  last  letter 
or  figure.  In  all  our  experiments  unnecessary  repeti¬ 
tion  was  carefully  avoided.  It  is  plain  that  the  nature 
of  these  experiments  of  last  impression  required  that 
not  one  letter  or  figure  should  be  repeated  twice  in  the 
series — e.  g. : 


K  9 

F  5 

L  8 

D  or  6 

R  2 

B  4 

E  1 

M  3 


Of  300  experiments  made,  190  succeeded. 

The  factor  of  last  impression  gives  a  suggestibility 
of  63*3  per  cent. 


32 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  SUGGESTION. 


5.  Coexistence  and  Last  Impression. — In  these 
experiments  a  slip  with  three  identical  characters  pasted 
on  it  appeared  at  the  end  of  the  series,  thus  combining 
in  one  the  factor  of  coexistence  with  that  of  last  im¬ 


pression — e.  g. : 

E  2 

N  5 

C  7 

K  1 

B  or  9 

M  8 

Q  4 

Z  6 

AAA  333 


Of  300  experiments  made,  55  succeeded. 

The  combined  effect  of  coexistence  and  last  impres¬ 
sion  gives  a  suggestibility  of  18*3  per  cent. 

6.  Frequency  and  Last  Impression. — The  letter 
or  numeral  repeated  with  interruptions  was  also  shown 
at  the  end  of  the  series — e.  g. : 

M 


C 

B 

C 

K 

C 

P 

1ST 

C 


or 


5 
2 
8 
2 
4 
2 
9 

6 
2 


Of  150  experiments  made,  113  succeeded. 

The  combined  effect  of  the  two  factors  gives  a  sug¬ 
gestibility  of  75  *2  per  cent. 

Arranging  now  the  factors  in  the  order  of  their  rate 
of  effected  suggestibility,  we  have  the  following  table : 


THE  EVIDENCE  OF  NORMAL  SUGGESTIBILITY.  33 


Per  cent. 


Frequency  and  last  impression _  75*2 

Last  impression .  63*3 

Frequency .  42*6 

Coexistence  and  last  impression ...  18-3 

Repetition .  17*6 

Coexistence .  6*6 


Comparing  now  the  suggestibility  effected  by  dif¬ 
ferent  factors,*  that  of  the  last  impression  stands  out 
most  prominently.  The  “  last  impression  ”  is  the  most 
impressive.  Our  daily  life  teems  with  facts  that  illus¬ 
trate  this  rule :  The  child  is  influenced  by  the  last 
impression  it  receives.  In  a  debate  he,  as  a  rule,  gains 
the  victory  in  the  eyes  of  the  public  who  has  the  last 
word.  In  a  crowd  he  moves  and  stirs  the  citizens  to 
action  who  makes  the  last  inciting  speech.  In  a  mob 
he  who  last  sets  an  example  becomes  the  hero  and  the 
leader. 

Frequency  comes  next  to  last  impression  and  pre¬ 
cedes  repetition.  This  may  be  explained  by  the  fact 
that  in  repetition  the  suggestion  is  too  grossly  obvious, 
lying  almost  on  the  surface;  the  mind,  therefore,  is 
aroused  to  opposition,  and  a  counter-suggestion  is 
formed ;  while  in  frequency  the  suggestion,  on  account 
of  the  interruption,  is  not  so  tangibly  obvious,  the 
opposition  therefore  is  considerably  less,  and  the  sug¬ 
gestion  is  left  to  run  its  course. 

Coexistence  is  a  still  poorer  mode  of  suggestion 
than  repetition ;  it  only  arouses  opposition.  Coexist¬ 
ence  is  in  reality  of  the  nature  of  repetition,  for  it  is 
repetition  in  space ;  it  is  a  poor  form  of  repetition. 


*  Let  me  add  here  that  the  figures  bring  out  rather  the  relative 
than  the  absolute  suggestiveness  of  the  factors  studied. 


34 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  SUGGESTION. 


On  the  whole,  we  may  say  that  in  the  normal  state 
temporal  or  spatial  repetition  is  the  most  unfortunate 
mode  of  suggestion,  while  the  best,  the  most  successful 
of  all  the  particular  factors,  is  that  of  the  last  impres¬ 
sion — that  is,  the  mode  of  bringing  the  idea  intended 
for  suggestion  at  the  very  end.  This  rule  is  observed 
by  influential  orators  and  widely  read  popular  writers  ; 
it  is  known  in  rhetoric  as  bringing  the  composition 
to  a  climax.  Of  all  the  modes  of  suggestion ,  however , 
the  most  powerful,  the  most  effective ,  and  the  most  suc¬ 
cessful  is  a  skilful  combination  of  frequency  and  last 
impression.  This  rule  is  observed  by  Shakespeare  in 
the  speech  of  Antony.  Be  these  rules  of  the  particular 
factors  what  they  may,  one  thing  is  clear  and  sure: 
these  experiments  unquestionably  prove  the  reality  of 
normal  suggestibility ;  they  prove  the  presence  of  sug¬ 
gestibility  in  the  average  normal  individual. 

From  suggestion  of  ideas  I  turned  to  suggestion  of 
movements,  of  acts.  The  first  set  of  experiments  was 
rather  crude  in  form,  but  not  without  its  peculiar  inter¬ 
est  and  value. 

The  experiments  were  carried  on  in  the  following 
way:  On  a  little  table  I  put  a  few  objects,  screened 
from  the  subject  by  a  sheet  of  white  cardboard.  The 
subject  was  asked  to  concentrate  his  attention  on  a  cer¬ 
tain  spot  of  the  screen  for  about  twenty  seconds.  On 
the  sudden  removal  of  the  screen  the  subject  had  im¬ 
mediately  to  do  something — anything  he  liked.  It 
was,  of  course,  also  understood  that  the  subject  should 
keep  his  mind  a  blank  as  much  as  it  was  in  his  power, 
and,  at  any  rate,  that  he  should  not  beforehand  make 
up  his  mind  what  to  do.  The  subjects,  I  must  add, 
were  perfectly  trustworthy  people — coworkers  in  the 
Psychological  Laboratory. 


THE  EVIDENCE  OP  NORMAL  SUGGESTIBILITY.  35 


Now,  while  the  screen  was  removed  I  at  the  same 
time  loudly  suggested  some  action — such  as  “  Read !  ” 
“ Write!”  “Cut!”  “Strike!”  “Ring!”  etc.  On  the 
table  were  objects  appropriate  to  such  actions — a  book, 
a  pen,  a  knife,  a  hammer,  a  bell.  The  subjects  very 
frequently  carried  out  the  commands,  the  suggestions 
given  to  them. 

Of  five  hundred  experiments  made,  about  one  half 
succeeded ;  that  is,  the  subject  carried  out  the  sugges¬ 
tion  given  to  him  during  the  removal  of  the  screen. 
Allowing  ten  per  cent  for  chance,  there  remains  about 
forty  per  cent  in  favour  of  suggestibility. 

On  interrogating  the  subjects  of  their  state  of  mind 
at  the  moment  of  action,  many  of  them  told  me  that 
they  felt  no  desire  nor  any  particular  impulse  to  carry 
out  the  act  suggested,  but  that  they  complied  with  my 
order  out  of  sheer  politeness.  (I  should  say,  though, 
that  the  fact  of  the  order  being  realized  so  many  times, 
be  it  even  from  mere  politeness,  indicates  the  presence 
of  suggestibility.) 

Some  of  the  subjects  became  totally  unfitted  to  do 
anything  at  all.  It  seemed  as  if  all  activity  was  for  the 
time  being  under  some  powerful  inhibition. 

In  the  case  of  one  subject — Mr.  S.,  one  of  the 
ablest  men  in  the  Psychological  Laboratory — I  found 
that  my  order  was  carried  out  in  a  reflex  way ;  so  much 
so  that  a  few  times,  when  I  called  out  “  Strike !  ”  “  Ham¬ 
mer  !  ”  the  hand  went  down  on  the  table  instantane¬ 
ously  and  with  such  violence  that  the  table  was  nearly 
shattered.  Mr.  S.  felt  pain  in  his  hand  for  some  min¬ 
utes.  On  one  occasion  I  called  out,  “  Look  there !  ” 
Quick  as  lightning  Mr.  S.  turned  round  and  looked 
hard.  On  another  occasion  I  commanded,  “  Rise  !  ” 
Back  moved  the  chair  and  up  went  Mr.  S. 


36 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  SUGGESTION. 


Now  this  set  of  experiments,  if  regarded  alone,  cer¬ 
tainly  does  not  carry  conviction  as  to  the  presence  of 
suggestibility  in  all  perfectly  normal  and  healthy  per¬ 
sons;  but  along  with  other  experiments — with  those 
that  relate  to  suggestion  of  ideas,  and  with  those  in  re¬ 
lation  to  choice  suggestion,  of  which  I  shall  soon  give  a 
detailed  account — this  last  set  of  movements’  and  acts’ 
suggestion  certainly  contributes  its  mite  of  evidence. 
It  is  not,  however,  on  account  of  their  positive  side 
that  I  value  these  movement  experiments,  but  on  ac¬ 
count  of  their  negative  side.  I  shall  resume  this  sub¬ 
ject  further  on  in  its  proper  place.  Interesting  as 
that  last  line  of  investigation  was,  I  still  had  to  aban¬ 
don  it,  because  the  experiments  could  not  possibly 
be  expressed  in  precise  quantitative  terms.  Except 
in  the  case  of  Mr.  S.,  I  could  not  precisely  know  how 
far  the  experiment  succeeded  and  how  far  it  failed. 
The  different  factors  remained  unanalyzed,  and  the 
whole  mechanism  was  extremely  crude  and  primitive. 
Thanks  to  the  advice  of  Prof.  H.  Miinsterberg,  I 
was  enabled  to  continue  my  research  further  and  pene¬ 
trate  deeper  into  one  of  the  most  obscure,  most  mys¬ 
terious,  but  also  most  promising  regions  of  human 
nature.  The  experiments  which  I  am  about  to  de¬ 
scribe  were  carried  out  with  great  care  and  minute¬ 
ness  of  detail.  The  new  factors  studied  were  carefully 
analyzed  and  separated.  I  must  confess  that  at  first  I 
did  not  fully  realize  the  import  and  value  of  these  ex¬ 
periments  ;  I  saw  in  them  nothing  else  than  a  further 
test  and  affirmation  of  the  fact  of  normal  suggestibility, 
especially  on  its  efferent  or  motor  side.  The  highest  I 
thought  of  their  value  was  that  along  with  the  preced¬ 
ing  experiments  they  would  carry  to  the  mind  convic¬ 
tion — perfect  certitude  as  to  the  universality  of  normal 


THE  EVIDENCE  OF  NOBMAL  SUGGESTIBILITY.  37 


suggestibility.  But  later  on,  when  I  summed  up  the 
results  and  thought  the  matter  over,  I  was  glad  to  dis¬ 
cover  that  the  results  had  a  profounder  meaning  than 
the  one  I  put  on  them ;  that  they  pointed  to  something 
beyond,  to  something  deeper  and  wider  than  the  prob¬ 
lem  they  were  intended  to  solve. 

To  pass  now  to  the  experiments  themselves.  The 
experiments  were  carried  on  in  the  following  way  :  Six 
small  squares  (30x30  mm.)  of  different  colours  were 
placed  on  a  white  background.  The  white  background 
with  the  six  squares  on  it  was  again  covered  by  a  black 
cardboard.  The  subject  was  told  to  fix  his  attention  on 
the  black  cardboard  for  five  seconds  (time  being  meas¬ 
ured  by  the  metronome).  At  the  end  of  five  seconds 
the  black  cover  was  removed,  and  the  subject  had  im¬ 
mediately  to  take  one  of  the  coloured  squares,  which¬ 
ever  he  liked. 

The  subjects  were  nineteen  in  number.  ~No  subject 
was  allowed  to  take  part  in  these  experiments  more 
than  one  hour  a  week.  Precautions  were  also  taken 
that  the  same  series  of  colours  should  not  be  repeated  in 
the  experiments  with  the  same  subject.  For  this  pur¬ 
pose  Bradley’s  colours  were  used,  which  give  an  end¬ 
less  combination  of  different  colours.  At  the  beginning 
of  each  week  the  colours  were  rearranged  in  new  series 
of  six  squares  each ;  no  series  containing  the  same 
colour,  the  squares  were  all  of  different  colours.  Pre¬ 
caution  was  also  taken  to  hide  the  arrangement  of  the 
experiments  from  the  subjects.* 


*  As  the  squares  were  rather  small  in  size  they  could  with  equal 
facility  be  reached  with  either  hand,  and  there  was,  therefore,  no 
tendency  to  prefer  the  squares  of  one  side  more  than  those  of  the 
other  side.  Besides,  control-experiments  with  black  squares  were 
made  by  me;  and  these  experiments  still  further  confirmed  the 


38 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  SUGGESTION. 


In  these  experiments  on  suggestion  of  choice  the 
following  six  factors  were  studied : 

1.  Abnormal  position. 

2.  Colored  cover. 

3.  Strange  shape. 

4.  Colour  verbally  suggested. 

5.  Place  verbally  suggested. 

6.  Environment. 

1.  Abnormal  Position. — One  of  the  coloured  squares 
was  placed  in  some  abnormal  way,  thus : 

□  □□□<>□ 


OR 


2.  Coloured  Cover. — Instead  of  the  usual  black 
cover  a  coloured  cover  was  used  in  these  experiments. 
A  square  of  the  same  colour  as  that  of  the  cover  was 
placed  in  the  series  of  squares. 

3.  Strange  Shape. — One  of  the  coloured  squares 
was  here  of  some  peculiar  shape,  of  the  form  of  a  tri¬ 
angle,  oblong  rectangle,  rhomboid,  pentagon,  star,  etc.; 
thus : 


□ 

□ 


A  □'  □ 

OR 

□  On 


view  that  this  factor  of  preference  by  convenience  was  totally 
absent. 


THE  EVIDENCE  OF  NORMAL  SUGGESTIBILITY.  39 


4.  Colour  verbally  suggested. — One  of  the  col¬ 
oured  squares  was  shown  to  the  subject,  who  had  to  de¬ 
termine  its  colour.  This  was  not  an  easy  task,  as  the 
subject  had  to  tell  the  constituents  of  the  colour,  and 
give  the  precise  name  of  it.  The  subject  usually  kept 
the  coloured  square  in  his  hand,  and  spoke  about  it  for 
more  than  a  minute.  In  case  he  did  not  succeed,  I 
told  him  the  name  of  the  colour.  Then  the  square  was 
replaced  in  the  series,  and  the  experiment  proper 
began. 

5.  Place  verbally  suggested. — The  place  of  one 
of  the  coloured  squares  was  suggested  by  calling  out  a 
number  during  the  removal  of  the  cover  and  the  set  of 
choice,  as,  for  instance,  “  Three  !  ”  meaning  the  third  in 
the  row  beginning  from  the  left  hand.  In  order  that 
the  subject  should  understand  the  number  suggested 
and  get  used  to  this  mode  of  counting,  I  asked  of 
him  in  other  suggestion  experiments  that,  after  having 
chosen  a  coloured  square,  he  should  also  tell  its  place, 
counting  from  left  to  right. 

6.  Environment. — One  of  the  6ix  coloured  squares 
was  put  on  a  larger  square  of  differently  coloured  paper. 
A  fringe  environing  the  square  was  thus  formed. 


Special  care  was  taken  not  to  leave  in  the  same 
place  the  square  suggested,  but  to  shift  it  with  each 
subsequent  experiment.  The  differently  coloured  squares 
suggested  were  each  time  put  in  different  places,  so 
that  the  subject  should  not  form  a  habit  of  choosing 
from  one  place  more  than  from  another. 

To  counteract  all  expectation  as  to  what  the  nature 

of  the  experiment  was,  the  experiments  were  constantly 
4 


40 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  SUGGESTION. 


changed  as  to  the  nature  of  the  factor,  and,  to  be  the 
more  sure  of  completely  eliminating  expectation,  sham 
experiments  were  introduced.  Instead  of  the  usual  col¬ 
oured  squares,  the  subject  frequently  found  a  row  of 
black  squares,  looking  like  a  funeral  march.  These 
black  squares  were  often  screened  by  a  cover  of  gay 
colour. 

Before  I  proceed  to  give  a  detailed  account  of  the 
experiments,  I  think  it  would  be  well  to  give  the  pre¬ 
cise  meaning  in  which  I  here  employ  the  terms  of 
mediate  and  immediate  suggestion  and  suggestibility. 

By  immediate  suggestion  I  mean  to  indicate  the  full 
realization  of  the  suggestion  given  to  the  subject — the 
fact  of  his  taking  the  square  suggested  to  him  in  a 
direct  or  indirect  way. 

By  mediate  suggestion  I  mean  to  indicate  the  fact 
of  incomplete  realization  of  the  suggestion — the  fact  of 
taking  a  square  next  to  the  one  suggested  by  the  experi¬ 
ment — e.  g. : 


b  c  d  e  m 

□  □□<>□□ 

d,  Immediate  suggestion. 
c  or  e,  Mediate  suggestion. 

The  results  are  as  follows  :  * 

1.  Abnormal  Position. 

Per  cent. 


Immediate  suggestion .  47*85 

Mediate  suggestion .  5*37 

Total  suggestion .  53*22 


*  See  Appendix  A. 


THE  EVIDENCE  OF  NORMAL  SUGGESTIBILITY.  4} 


2.  Coloured  Coyer. 

Per  cent. 

Immediate  suggestion .  38*16 

Mediate  suggestion .  5*83 

Total  suggestion .  43*99 

3.  Strange  Shape. 

Immediate  suggestion .  43 

Mediate  suggestion .  13 

Total  suggestion .  56 

4.  Colour  verbally  suggested. 

Immediate  suggestion .  28*89 

Mediate  suggestion .  4*44 

Total  suggestion .  33*33 

5.  Place  verbally  suggested. 

Immediate  suggestion .  19*41 

Mediate  suggestion .  0*58 

Total  suggestion .  19*99 

6.  Environment. 

Immediate  suggestion .  30*44 

Mediate  suggestion .  22*22 

Total  suggestion .  52*66 

Making  now  a  table  of  the  factors  and  arranging 
them  in  the  order  suggestibility  effected,  we  have  the 
following : 


42 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  SUGGESTION. 


Table  of  Immediate  Suggestibility. 

Per  cent. 


Abnormal  position .  47#8 

Strange  shape .  43*0 

Coloured  Cover .  38*1 

Environment .  30*4 

Colour  verbally  suggested .  28*8 

Place  verbally  suggested .  19  *4 


Mediate  suggestibility  necessitates  a  rearrangement 
of  the  factors : 

Table  of  Mediate  Suggestibility. 

Per  cent. 


Environment .  22*2 

Strange  shape .  - 13*0 

Coloured  cover .  5'8 

Abnormal  position .  5*3 

Colour  verbally  suggested .  4*4 

Place  verbally  suggested .  0*5 


A  scrutiny  of  the  table  of  immediate  suggestibility 
shows  that  the  factors  of  abnormal  position  and  of 
abnormal  or  strange  shape  give  the  strongest  sugges¬ 
tion.  A  familiar  thing  in  a  strange  abnormal  position 
or  shape  produces  the  most  effective  suggestion.  Noth¬ 
ing  speaks  so  much  to  the  childish  or  popular  mind  as 
a  caricature,  monstrosity,  a  grotesque  figure.  A  dis¬ 
torted  picture  of  a  familiar  scene  or  person  will  at 
once  attract  the  attention  of  the  child,  and  power¬ 
fully  affect  its  conduct  in  case  the  picture  is  intended 
to  show  the  fate  of  bad  children.  The  angelical  hap¬ 
piness  of  saints,  the  pure,  holy  bliss  of  martyrs,  the 
intolerable  torments  suffered  by  the  wicked  in  hell, 


THE  EVIDENCE  OF  NORMAL  SUGGESTIBILITY.  43 


speak  volumes  to  the  vulgar  religious  mind.  When 
Yladimir,  the  Russian  Kniase  (king),  intended  to  aban¬ 
don  paganism  and  accept  a  monotheistic  religion,  mis¬ 
sionaries  came  to  him  from  the  Jews,  Mohammedans, 
and  Christians.  dSTo  argument  could  affect  the  bar¬ 
barian.  The  cunning  Greeks  then  showed  him  a  pic¬ 
ture  representing  the  day  of  judgment.  The  righteous 
enjoy  eternal  bliss  in  the  company  of  beautiful  maiden¬ 
like  angels,  while  the  wicked,  with  distorted  faces, 
writhe  and  wriggle  in  agonies  of  pain.  The  infidels 
are  cooked  in  enormous  kettles  containing  a  hellish 
soup  of  hot,  seething  oil  and  bubbling  sulphur  and 
pitch.  The  sinners,  the  blasphemers,  are  mercilessly 
fried  and  roasted  by  horned,  tailed,  cloven -hoofed,  grin¬ 
ning,  hideous-looking  devils.  Yladimir  was  deeply  af¬ 
fected  by  the  picture  of  the  Christian  hell,  and  at  once 
accepted  the  Greek  faith.  This  Russian  tradition  may 
serve  as  a  good  illustration  of  the  great  power  of  sug¬ 
gestion  possessed  by  the  two  factors  of  abnormal  posi¬ 
tion  and  strange  shape. 

Turning  now  to  the  table  of  mediate  suggestibility, 
we  find  that  the  factor  of  environment  gives  us  as  high 
a  rate  as  22 ‘2  per  cent,  almost  twice  the  rate  of  the 
mediate  suggestibility  possessed  by  the  factor  of  strange 
shape,  and  more  than  five  times  the  rate  of  the  mediate 
suggestibility  possessed  by  the  factor  colour  verbally 
suggested.  This  can  possibly  be  explained  by  the  fact 
that  one  of  the  conditions  of  the  environment  factor 
was  to  put  one  of  the  squares  on  a  differently  coloured 
background.  The  fringed  square  looked  somewhat 
prettier  than  its  fellows,  and  it  was  this  prettiness  that 
enhanced  the  mediate  suggestibility.  An  adorned , 
beautiful  object  sheds  glory  on  its  homely  neighbours 
and  makes  them  more  eligible . 


44  THE  psychology  of  suggestion. 

But  however  the  case  may  he  with  the  relative  sug¬ 
gestibility  of  the  particular  factors  studied,  these  last 
experiments  on  choice  suggestion,  together  with  the 
other  suggestion  experiments,  establish  the  fact  of  nor¬ 
mal  suggestibility  on  a  firm  and  unshakable  basis.  Man 
is  a  suggestible  animal,  jpar  excellence . 


CHAPTER  IY. 


THE  CONDITIONS  OF  NORMAL  SUGGESTIBILITY. 

1.  The  first  and  general  condition  of  normal  sug¬ 
gestibility  is  fixation  of  the  attention. 

In  all  my  experiments  the  one  indispensable  condi¬ 
tion  was  to  fix  the  attention  on  some  spot  and  thus  to 
prepare  the  subject  for  the  acceptance  of  the  sugges¬ 
tion.  I  asked  the  subject  to  look  on  some  particular 
point  chosen  by  me,  the  time  of  fixation  usually  vary¬ 
ing  from  two  to  five  seconds.  In  my  experiments  with 
letters  and  figures  the  attention  of  the  subject  was  fixed 
on  the  white  surface  of  the  screen  for  about  two  sec¬ 
onds  before  the  first  character  of  the  series  appeared ; 
then,  again,  between  each  figure  or  letter  and  the  next 
following  there  was  an  interval  of  two  or  three  seconds 
during  which  the  subject  had  to  look  fixedly  at  the 
uniformly  white  screen.  In  my  experiments  with 
coloured  squares,  or  on  choice  suggestion,  the  condition 
of  fixation  of  attention  was  scrupulously  observed ;  the 
subject  had  to  fix  his  attention  on  a  particular  point  for 
five  seconds*.  The  same  condition  was  observed  in  my 
experiments  on  suggestion  of  movements  and  of  acts. 
The  fixation  of  attention,  as  I  said,  was  usually  not 
continued  longer  than  five  seconds.  Thus,  out  of  4,487 
experiments  made  on  suggestion,  only  500  experiments 
(those  dealing  with  suggestion  of  movements)  had  a 
fixation  time  higher  than  five  seconds. 

45 


46 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  SUGGESTION. 


Fixation  of  attention  is  one  of  the  most  important 
conditions  of  normal  suggestibility — so  much  so  that 
when  this  condition  was  absent  the  experiments  were 
unsuccessful,  the  suggestion  given  invariably  failed. 
The  subject  declared  he  was  disturbed,  mixed  up,  that 
he  was  not  in  the  mood,  that  he  could  not  make  up  his 
mind  to  write  anything,  to  execute  movements,  or  to 
choose  squares. 

2.  The  next  condition  of  normal  suggestibility  is 
distraction  of  the  attention.  The  subject  had  to  fix  his 
attention  on  some  irrelevant  point,  spot,  thing  that  had 
no  connection  with  the  material  of  the  experiments,  no 
resemblance  to  the  objects  employed  for  suggestion. 
Usually  I  asked  my  subjects  to  fix  their  attention  on 
some  minute  dot,  because  a  large  spot  or  a  big  object 
might  have  interfered  with  the  suggestion,  on  account 
of  form,  size,  etc.  The  attention  had  to  be  diverted 
from  the  objects  of  the  experiments.  I  found  that 
when  this  condition  of  distraction  of  attention  was  ab¬ 
sent  the  experiments,  as  a  rule,  failed.  A.  Binet,  in  his 
valuable  article  on  Double  Consciousness,*  the  results 
of  which  we  will  discuss  later  on,  tells  us  that  the  sug¬ 
gestion  of  movements  brought  about  in  healthy,  nor¬ 
mal  persons  when  in  their  waking  condition  required 
one  “  necessary  condition :  that  attention  should  not  be 
fixed  on  the  hand  and  what  is  taking  place  there.”  Now 
Binet  made  his  suggestion  experiments  on  the  hand 
movements  of  the  subject ;  the  condition,  then,  he  re¬ 
quires  is  that  of  distraction  of  the  attention  from  the 
objects  of  the  experiments. 

3.  In  all  the  experiments  I  had  to  guard  against 
variety  of  impressions.  Slight  noises  coming  from  the 


*  See  also  his  book,  Les  alternations  de  la  personnalite. 


THE  CONDITIONS  OF  NORMAL  SUGGESTIBILITY.  47 


adjoining  rooms  in  the  laboratory,  a  new  man  coming 
into  the  room  where  the  experiments  were  being  car¬ 
ried  on,  a  book  dropping,  an  Italian  playing  on  the  street 
organ,  and  many  other  kindred  impressions,  were  dis¬ 
tinctly  unfavourable  to  the  experiments,  and  had  to  be 
avoided  as  much  as  possible.  The  subjects  had  to  ac¬ 
custom  themselves  to  the  conditions  and  objects  in  the 
room,  and  any  new  impressions  strongly  interfered  with 
the  success  of  the  suggestion.  A  fresh,  new  impression, 
however  slight,  proved  always  a  disturbance.  When  the 
impression  was  a  strong  one,  or  when  many  impressions 
came  together,  the  experiments  were  interrupted  and 
the  whole  work  came  to  a  standstill.  The  experiments 
could  be  carried  on  only  in  a  monotonous  environment, 
otherwise  they  failed.  Thus  we  find  that  monotony  is 
an  indispensable  condition  of  normal  suggestibility. 

4.  While  fixing  their  attention  the  subjects  had  to 
keep  as  quiet  as  possible ;  for  otherwise  the  subject 
became  disturbed,  his  attention  began  to  wander,  and 
the  suggestion  failed.  Before  the  experiments  began 
the  subjects  were  asked  to  make  themselves  as  com¬ 
fortable  as  possible,  so  that  they  should  not  have  to 
change  their  position  during  the  experiments.  We 
find,  then,  that  normal  suggestibility  requires  as  one  of 
its  conditions  a  limitation  of  voluntary  movements. 

5.  Limitation  of  the  field  of  consciousness  may  be 
also  considered  as  one  of  the  principal  conditions  of 
normal  suggestibility.  This  condition,  however,  is  in 
fact  a  result  of  the  former  ones — namely,  fixation  of 
attention,  monotony,  and  limitation  of  voluntary  move¬ 
ments  ;  for  when  these  last  conditions  are  present  the 
field  of  consciousness  is  contracted,  closed  to  any  new 
incoming  impressions,  limited  only  to  a  certain  set  of 
sensations,  fixed,  riveted  to  only  a  certain  point.  Con 


48 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  SUGGESTION. 


traction  of  the  field  of  consciousness  may,  however,  he 
effected  where  the  other  conditions  are  absent.  A  sud¬ 
den ,  violent  impression  may  instantly  effect  an  enor¬ 
mous  shrinkage  of  the  field  of  consciousness,  and  then 
the  other  conditions  will  naturally  follow,  or  rather  co¬ 
exist  ;  for  consciousness  will  reverberate  with  this  one 
violent  sense  impression  and  will  thus  attend  to  only 
the  latter.  There  will  also  be  monotony,  since  this  one 
sudden  and  violent  sense  impression  tolerates  few 
neighbours  and  drives  out  fresh  incomers.  Volun¬ 
tary  movements  will  then  certainly  he  limited,  since 
the  stream  of  consciousness  is  narrowed,  and  along  with 
it  its  ideomotor  side.  The  fact  that  limitation  or  con¬ 
traction  of  the  field  of  consciousness  may  occur  by 
itself  without  having  been  preceded  by  the  conditions 
mentioned  above  led  me  to  consider  it  a  separate  con¬ 
dition  of  normal  suggestibility. 

6.  The  experiments,  again,  could  not  be  carried  on 
without  the  condition  of  inhibition.  I  asked  the  sub¬ 
ject  that,  when  he  concentrated  his  attention  and  fixed 
a  particular  dot  pointed  out  to  him,  he  should  try  as 
much  as  it  was  in  his  power  to  banish  all  ideas — images 
that  had  no  connection  with  the  experiments  in  hand ; 
that  he  should  not  even  think  of  the  experiments  them¬ 
selves  ;  in  short,  that  he  should  make  his  mind  a  perfect 
blank ,  and  voluntarily  inhibit  ideas,  associations  that 
might  arise  before  his  mind’s  eye  and  claim  attention. 
Of  course,  this  condition  was  rather  a  hard  task  for  the 
subject  to  comply  with,  still  it  was  observed  as  far  as  it 
was  possible.  When  this  condition  was  neglected  by 
the  subject  the  experiments  invariably  failed.  Inhibi¬ 
tion,  then,  is  a  necessary  condition  of  normal  suggesti¬ 
bility. 

7.  The  very  last  condition,  but  at  the  same  time  the 


THE  CONDITIONS  OF  NORMAL  SUGGESTIBILITY.  49 

principal  one,  the  most  fundamental  condition  sine  qua 
non  experiments  in  normal  suggestion,  was  immediate 
execution.  The  subject  was  told  that  as  soon  as  he  per¬ 
ceived  the  signal  he  should  immediately  write,  act,  or 
choose. 

To  make  a  synopsis  of  the  conditions  of  normal  sug¬ 
gestibility  : 

1.  Fixation  of  attention. 

2.  Distraction  of  attention. 

3.  Monotony. 

4.  Limitation  of  voluntary  movements. 

5.  Limitation  of  the  field  of  consciousness. 

6.  Inhibition. 

7.  Immediate  execution. 


CHAPTEK  Y. 


THE  LAW  OF  NOEMAL  SUGGESTIBILITY. 

We  must  turn  again  to  our  experiments  and  give  a 
close  study  to  the  results  obtained.  We  take  choice 
suggestion  first.  Now,  out  of  the  six  factors  studied, 
four  belong  to  direct  suggestion  and  two  to  indirect 
suggestion.  The  factors  of  abnormal  position,  strange 
shape,  coloured  cover,  environment,  are  of  one  type, 
while  the  factors  of  colour  verbally  suggested  and  place 
verbally  suggested  are  of  the  other  opposite  type  of 
suggestion.  Is  there  any  difference  in  the  rate  of  sug¬ 
gestibility  of  the  two  types  of  suggestion  ?  Yes,  and  a 
very  good  one,  too.  For  even  a  superficial  glance  at  the 
two  tables  of  immediate  and  mediate  suggestibility,* 
if  the  latter  are  only  inspected  from  the  standpoint  of 
the  two  types  of  suggestion,  will  at  once  disclose  this 
radical  difference.  The  average  immediate  suggesti¬ 
bility  of  the  four  factors  belonging  to  the  first  type — to 
indirect  suggestion — amounts  to  39*8  per  cent,  whereas 
the  average  rate  of  immediate  suggestibility  of  the  two 
last  factors  belonging  to  the  second  type — to  direct  sug¬ 
gestion — amounts  only  to  24  T  per  cent. 

And  if  we  inspect  the  table  of  mediate  suggestibility, 
we  find  again  a  similar  difference ;  for  the  average  medi¬ 
ate  suggestibility  of  the  first  four  factors  belonging  to  the 
type  of  indirect  suggestion  gives  a  rate  of  11*5  per  cent. 


*  See  Chapter  III,  page  42. 
50 


THE  LAW  OP  NORMAL  SUGGESTIBILITY.  51 

Whereas  the  average  rate  of  mediate  suggestibility 
of  the  last  two  factors  belonging  to  the  type  of  direct 
suggestion  amounts  to  only  2*4  per  cent. 

The  difference  between  the  two  types  of  suggestion 
becomes  very  striking  indeed  if  we  make  a  table  of  total 
suggestibility — that  is,  if  we  add  together  the  mediate 
and  immediate  suggestibility  of  each  factor.  Making 
thus  the  table  and  arranging  the  factors  in  the  order  of 
their  respective  rates  of  total  suggestibility,  we  have  the 
following  results :  * 

TABLE  OF  TOTAL  SUGGESTIBILITY. 


Per  cent. 

Strange  shape .  56 

Abnormal  position .  53*2 

Environment .  52*6 

Coloured  cover .  43*9 

Colour  verbally  suggested . 33*3 

Place  verbally  suggested .  19*9 


A  mere  glance  at  this  table  shows  the  great  differ¬ 
ence  of  the  two  types  of  suggestion ;  and  this  differ¬ 
ence  becomes  yet  more  evident,  still  more  striking,  if 
we  take  the  rate  of  the  average  total  suggestibility  of 
the  first  type  of  factors  and  compare  it  with  that  of 
the  second.  For  the  average  total  suggestibility  of  the 
first  four  factors  amounts  to  as  much  as  51*4  per  cent, 
while  that  of  the  last  two  amounts  only  to  26*6  per 
cent.  The  one  rate  is  about  twice  the  other.  The 
conclusion  is  obvious,  as  it  lies  now  before  us  clear  and 
distinct  in  its  outlines.  In  the  case  of  normal  sugges- 


*  See  Chapter  III,  page  41. 


52 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  SUGGESTION. 


tibility  indirect  suggestion  is  far  more  effective  tham> 
direct  suggestion. 

If  we  examine  closer  the  nature  of  the  last  two  fac¬ 
tors,  colour  verbally  suggested  and  place  verbally  sug¬ 
gested,  factors  which  we  classed  in  the  type  of  direct 
suggestion,  we  find  that  they  are  only  relatively  direct ; 
for,  after  all,  the  subject  was  not  explicitly  and  directly 
told  to  take  that  colour.  What  we  really  must  say  of 
them  is,  that  they  far  more  approach  the  type  of  direct 
suggestion  than  the  other  four  factors  do. 

If  now  we  inquire  as  to  the  rate  of  suggestibility 
when  the  factor  is  of  the  actual  explicit  type  of  direct 
suggestion,  the  answer  is,  naught.  The  experiments  on 
suggestion  of  movements  bring  out  clearly  this  answer. 
The  suggestion  employed  there  was  that  of  the  most 
direct  and  explicit  kind,  and,  with  the  exception  of  Mr. 
S.,  the  experiments  proved  a  total  failure.  The  sub¬ 
jects  ironically  complied  with  my  command.  The  re¬ 
sults  were  negative — zero.  Direct  suggestion  is  at  the 
freezing  point  of  normal  suggestibility.  It  is  only  in 
proportion  as  a  given  factor  becomes  more  indirect  that 
it  rises  in  the  scale  of  suggestibility.  In  other  words, 
the  more  indirect  a  factor  is  the  higher  is  the  rate  of  its 
suggestibility. 

Should  we  like  to  have  still  further  proofs  we  can 
easily  get  them ;  for  a  close  scrutiny  of  the  tables  of 
immediate,  mediate,  and  total  suggestibility  most  clearly 
shows  the  truth  of  my  position,  namely,  that  in  the  nor¬ 
mal  state  a  suggestion  is  more  effective  the  more  indirect 
it  is,  and  in  proportion  as  it  becomes  direct  it  loses  its 
efficacy.  Abnormal  position,  strange  shape,  and  envi¬ 
ronment  are  the  most  indirect,  and  they  give  the  highest 
suggestibility  (environment  in  mediate  suggestibility 
gives  a  slightly  higher  rate  because  of  the  additional 


THE  LAW  OF  NORMAL  SUGGESTIBILITY.  53 


factor  of  attractiveness).  Abnormal  position  and  abnor¬ 
mal  shape  have  about  the  same  rate ;  for,  on  the  whole,  it 
makes  no  difference  for  man  whether  a  familiar  thing  is 
put  into  an  abnormal  position  or  whether  it  appears  in  a 
strange  garb :  he  is  equally  impressed  and  moved.  As  we 
come  to  the  factor  of  coloured  cover  we  find  a  slight  de¬ 
crease  in  the  rate  of  suggestibility.  For  if  we  take  the 
average  immediate  suggestibility  of  abnormal  position 
and  strange  shape  *  we  have  45  A  per  cent,  while  that  of 
coloured  cover  is  38*1  per  cent ;  the  difference  is  7*3  per 
cent ;  and  we  find  a  difference  between  the  same  factors 
in  the  case  of  total  suggestibility,  the  difference  being 
10*6  per  cent.  FTow  the  suggestion  of  coloured  cover 
is  somewhat  more  direct  than  that  of  abnormal  position, 
or  strange  shape;  for  in  spreading  a  coloured  cover 
over  the  squares,  the  subject,  on  seeing  and  fixing  his 
attention  on  it,  could  not  help  suspecting  that  it  was  a 
square  of  the  same  colour  that  I  wanted  him  to  choose : 
opposition  was  aroused  and  the  suggestion  failed.  Al¬ 
though  I  repeatedly  baffled  and  disappointed  the  expec¬ 
tation  of  the  subject  by  putting  black  squares  under  the 
coloured  cover,  or  spreading  one  over  a  row  of  squares 
totally  different  in  colour  from  that  of  the  cover,  still  I 
could  not  completely  dislodge  the  suspicion  from  the 
subject’s  mind ;  it  was  always  lurking  in  the  background 
of  his  consciousness. 

Of  the  two  factors,  colour  verbally  suggested  and 
place  verbally  suggested,  the  former  is  more  indirect 
than  the  latter.  In  the  one  I  merely  showed  a  square 
to  the  subject  and  asked  him  to  determine  the  colour, 
without  hinting  my  intention  (the  subject  very  fre¬ 
quently  being  absorbingly  interested  in  guessing  the 


*  See  Chapter  III,  page  42. 


54  THE  psychology  of  suggestion. 

name)  ;  while  in  the  other  the  number  of  the  place  of 
the  suggested  square  was  called  out  during  the  removal 
of  the  cover — the  hint,  therefore,  was  more  direct.  If 
now  we  look  at  the  tables  of  immediate,  mediate,  and 
total  suggestibility  of  the  two  factors  we  find  a  great 


difference  in  their  rates  of  efficiency. 

The  immediate  suggestibility  of  the 

factor  colour  verbally  suggested  is .  28*8  per  cent, 

while  that  of  place  verbally  suggested  is  19*4  “ 

the  difference  amounting  to .  9*4 

The  mediate  suggestibility  of  the 

factor  colour  verbally  suggested  is .  4*4 

while  that  of  place  verbally  suggested  is 

but .  0*5  “ 

the  difference  amounting  to .  3’9  “ 

The  total  suggestibility  of  colour, 

etc.,  is .  33*3  “ 

while  that  of  place,  etc.,  is .  19*9 

the  difference  being .  13*4  u 


If  again  we  turn  to  our  very  first  study  with  letters 
and  figures,  we  find  the  results  pointing  to  the  same 
truth.  The  factors  of  frequency  and  last  impression 
are  far  more  indirect  than  those  of  coexistence  and  repe¬ 
tition,  and  we  correspondingly  find  a  great  difference 
in  their  rates  of  suggestibility.  Thus  the  average  rate 
of  frequency  and  of  last  impression  is  (63’3  -}-  42*6)  -f* 
2  —  52‘9  per  cent ;  while  the  average  rate  of  suggesti¬ 
bility  of  repetition  and  of  coexistence  is  (17*6  +  6ffi)  -j- 
2  —  12T  per  cent,  the  difference  being  40*8  per  cent. 

The  factor  of  last  impression,  again,  is  relatively 
more  indirect  than  that  of  frequency,  and  correspond¬ 
ingly  we  find  a  difference  in  their  rates  of  suggesti¬ 
bility. 


THE  LAW  OF  NORMAL  SUGGESTIBILITY.  55 
The  factor  of  last  impression  gives. .  63*3  per  cent, 


while  that  of  frequency  gives .  42*6  “ 

the  difference  being . .  20*7  “ 


The  factor  of  repetition  is  relatively  more  indirect 
than  that  of  coexistence,  in  the  latter  the  suggestion  be¬ 
ing  almost  grossly  obvious,  and  once  more  we  find  a 
corresponding  difference  in  their  rates  of  suggestibility. 


Repetition  gives .  17*6  per  cent, 

while  the  factor  of  coexistence  gives. ...  6*6  “ 

the  difference  being .  11  “ 


Furthermore,  the  factor  of  last  impression  came  with 
as  high  a  rate  as  63*3  per  cent,  but  when  the  same  fac¬ 
tor  of  last  impression  enters  into  combination  with  that 
of  coexistence,  forming  one  factor  of  coexistence  and 
last  impression,  the  rate  falls  as  low  as  18‘3  per  cent, 
thus  strongly  contrasting  the  efficacy  of  direct  with 
that  of  indirect  suggestion. 

What  is  the  outcome  of  this  whole  discussion  ? 
Nothing  less  than  the  law  of  normal  suggestibility — a 
law  which  we  shall  find  later  on  of  the  utmost  impor¬ 
tance. 

Normal  suggestibility  varies  as  indirect  suggestion , 
a/nd  inversely  as  direct  suggestion. 


5 


CHAPTER  YI. 


THE  CONDITIONS  OF  ABNORMAL  SUGGESTIBILITY. 

The  great  type  of  abnormal  suggestibility  is  tbe 
hypnotic  state ;  so  much  so  that  the  Haney  school  de¬ 
fines  hypnosis  as  a  state  of  heightened  suggestibility. 
The  conditions  of  abnormal  suggestibility  are,  in  fact, 
those  of  hypnosis.  What  are  they  ? 

1.  The  first  and  foremost  is  that  of  fixation  of  the 
attention.  Thus  Braid  used  to  hypnotize  his  subjects 
by  fixing  their  attention  on  some  brilliant  object  or 
point.  He  considered  a  steady  attention  indispensable 
if  hypnosis  were  to  be  attained  ;  the  subject  must  look 
steadily  at  the  object,  he  must  only  think  of  the  thing 
he  was  fixing,  and  must  not  allow  his  attention  to  be 
diverted  from  it.  Of  such  permanent  importance  is 
fixation  of  attention  that,  according  to  Braid,  if  only 
this  condition  is  observed  one  can  hypnotize  even  in  the 
dark.  The  ability  to  direct  one’s  thoughts  in  any  par¬ 
ticular  direction  is  very  favourable  to  hypnosis.  Those 
who  can  by  no  possibility  fix  their  attention,  who  suf¬ 
fer  from  continual  absence  of  mind,  or  those  who  are 
helplessly  stupid  and  lacking  the  power  of  concentra¬ 
tion,  are  not  hypnotizable.  I  find  in  my  notes  the  case 
of  an  extremely  stupid  young  boy  of  sixteen  who,  on 
account  of  lack  of  concentration  of  mind,  is  unable  to 
solve  the  most  elementary  arithmetical  problem.  I 

56 


CONDITIONS  OF  ABNORMAL  SUGGESTIBILITY.  57 


foretold  that  he  would  be  unliypnotizable  (of  course 
I  did  not  tell  that  to  him).  Although  I  hypnotized  in  his 
presence  three  good  subjects,  he  remained  refractory. 
I  tried  all  kinds  of  methods  I  could  think  of ;  the  last 
one  was  that  of  Braid.  For  more  than  twenty  minutes 
he  fixed  an  object,  his  eyes  being  converged  in  the 
most  orthodox  fashion,  inward  and  upward ;  tears  were 
trickling  down  his  cheeks,  but  he  remained  unaffected, 
and  for  the  simple  reason  that  his  attention  was  not 
kept  steady — it  was  roving  and  wandering  all  the  while. 
All  methods  of  hypnotization  require  fixation  of  atten¬ 
tion  as  their  indispensable  condition.  The  adherents 
of  the  Salpetriere  school  frequently  hypnotize  by  fixing 
the  subject’s  attention  on  the  expectation  of  some  sud¬ 
den  brilliant  ray  of  light  meant  to  induce  the  hypnotic 
state.  The  followers  of  the  Nancy  school  fix  the  at¬ 
tention  of  the  subject  on  the  two  fingers  held  before  his 
eyes  and  on  the  sounds  of  suggestion  given  by  the 
operator.  “  I  hold  two  fingers,”  says  Bernheim,*  “  be¬ 
fore  the  patient’s  eyes  and  ask  him  to  concentrate  his 
attention  on  the  idea  of  sleep.”  The  efficacy  of  mes¬ 
meric  passes  is  also  due  to  the  fixation  of  attention,  for 
by  those  means  the  whole  attention  of  the  subject  is 
directed  to  the  particular  place  where  the  passes  are 
made.  “  Let  any  one,”  says  Dr.  Moll,f  “  allow  his  arm 
or  his  leg  to  be  mesmerized  by  passes,  and  he  will  find 
that  his  whole  attention  is  directed  to  this  part  of  his 
body,  and  much  more  strongly  than  if  his  attention 
was  concentrated  on  the  limb  in  another  manner.” 
“  Die  Hauptsache  ist,”  Lehmann  j;  tells  us,  “  dass  in  der 
Hypnose  die  Aufmerksamkeit  in  einer  bestimmten 
Bichtung  gebunden  ist.”  This  is  not  exactly  true  of 


*  Suggestive  Therapeutics.  f  Hypnotism.  \  Die  Hypnose. 


58 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  SUGGESTION. 


the  hypnotic  state  itself,  but  it  holds  true  with  re¬ 
gard  to  the  induction  of  hypnosis.  “  Children  under 
three  and  four  and  insane  persons,  especially  idiots,  are 
unusually  hard  to  hypnotize,”  says  Prof.  James.* 
“  This  seems  due  to  the  impossibility  of  getting  them 
to  fix  their  attention  continually  on  the  idea  of  the  com¬ 
ing  trance.”  Prof.  James  seems  to  me  to  have  hit 
the  mark  when  he  tells  us  that  the  concentration  of 
attention  on  the  coming  trance  induces  hypnosis.  In 
short,  fixation  of  attention  is  an  indispensable  condition 
of  hypnosis. 

2.  Monotony  of  impressions  is  another  condition  of 
the  hypnotic  state.  If  you  want  to  hypnotize  a  subject, 
especially  if  it  is  for  the  first  time,  you  must  put  him 
into  a  monotonous  environment.  You  must  prevent 
fresh,  new  impressions  from  reaching  the  sensorium  of 
the  subject.  Whatever  your  mode  of  hypnotization 
may  be,  it  must  always  be  of  the  same  kind.  This 
might  be  effected  by  a  strong  stimulus  acting  for  a 
moment  or  two,  or,  what  is  far  more  often  the  case, 
a  prolonged  monotonous  series  of  slight  stimuli.  Thus 
Binet  f  tells  us  that  “  slight  and  prolonged  stimuli  of 
the  same  nature  ”  constitute  one  of  the  modes  of  pro¬ 
ducing  the  hypnotic  state.  Bemheim  J  expresses  him¬ 
self  on  this  point  more  clearly :  “  Let  us  add,”  he  says, 
“  that  in  the  majority  of  the  passes  the  monotonous, 
wearying,  and  continuous  impression  of  one  of  the 
senses  produce  a  certain  intellectual  drowsiness,  the 
prelude  of  sleep.  The  mind,  entirely  absorbed  by  a 
quiet,  uniform,  and  incessant  perception,  becomes  for¬ 
eign  to  all  other  impressions  ;  it  is  too  feebly  stimulated, 
and  allows  itself  to  become  dull.”  This  condition  of 


*  Psychology,  vol.  ii.  f  Animal  Magnetism. 
\  Suggestive  Therapeutics. 


CONDITIONS  OF  ABNORMAL  SUGGESTIBILITY.  5& 


monotony  is  very  clearly  seen  in  the  case  of  the  Nancy 
method  of  hypnotization.  The  operator  suggests  in  so 
many  words  the  same  idea  of  going  to  sleep  :  “  Yonr 
eyelids  are  heavy ;  yonr  eyes  are  tired ;  they  begin  to 
wink ;  you  feel  a  sort  of  drowsiness ;  your  arms  and 

legs  are  motionless  ;  sleep  is  coming  ;  sleep - .”  My 

mode  of  hypnotization  consists  in  forming  a  monot¬ 
onous  environment ;  the  light  is  lowered,  and  a  pro¬ 
found  silence  reigns  in  the  room ;  then  gently  and 
monotonously  stroking  the  skin  of  the  subject’s  fore¬ 
head,  and  in  a  low,  muffled,  monotonous  voice,  as  if 
rocking  a  baby  to  sleep,  I  go  on  repeating,  “  Sleep, 
sleep,  sleep,”  etc.,  until  the  subject  falls  into  the  hyp¬ 
notic  state. 

3.  Limitation  of  voluntary  movements  is  also  one 
of  the  conditions  of  inducing  hypnosis.  The  subject 
sits  down  on  a  chair  in  a  comfortable  position,  and  is 
asked  to  relax  his  muscles  and  make  as  few  movements 
as  possible — to  keep  as  quiet  as  a  mouse.  This  condi¬ 
tion  is,  in  fact,  supplementary  to  that  of  fixation  of  at¬ 
tention,  for  many  different  movements  strongly  inter¬ 
fere  with  the  steadiness  of  the  attention.  The  attention 
changes,  oscillates  in  different  directions,  and  the  induc¬ 
tion  of  hypnosis  is  rendered  impossible.  Dr.  Moll* 
says  that  “  fascination  is  induced  by  limitation  of  volun¬ 
tary  movements.”  This  is  no  doubt  perfectly  true,  only 
Dr.  Moll  ought  not  to  limit  it  to  “  fascination  ”  alone, 
for  limitation  of  voluntary  movements  is  one  of  the 
principal  conditions  of  inducing  hypnosis  in  general. 

4.  Limitation  of  the  field  of  consciousness  must  cer¬ 
tainly  be  included  among  the  conditions  of  inducing 
hypnosis.  The  consciousness  of  the  subject  must  be 


*  Hypnotism. 


60 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  SUGGESTION. 


narrowed  to  one  idea  of  sleep.  “  I  endeavour,”  says 
Braid  in  his  Neurypnology,  “  to  rid  the  mind  at  once 
of  all  ideas  hut  one .”  Wundt  defines  the  very  nature 
of  hypnosis  as  limitation  of  the  field  of  consciousness, 
and  to  a  certain  extent  he  is  justified  in  his  assertion, 
seeing  that  all  the  methods  of  hypnotization  turn  on  it 
as  on  a  pivot.  Thus  the  method  of  Braid  narrows  the 
field  of  consciousness  to  a  brilliant  point,  that  of  mes¬ 
merism  to  the  passes,  that  of  the  Nancy  school  to  the 
tips  of  the  fingers  held  out  before  the  subject,  or  to  the 
one  idea  of  expectation  of  sleep.  To  induce  hypnosis 
we  must  in  some  way  or  other  effect  such  a  limitation. 

We  know  that  a  strange  emotion  narrows  down  the 
field  of  consciousness.  We  often  find  that  people 
under  the  emotion  of  intense  excitement  lose,  so  to  say, 
their  senses ;  their  mind  seems  to  be  paralyzed,  or 
rather,  so  to  say,  the  one  idea  that  produces  the  excite¬ 
ment  banishes  all  other  ideas,  and  a  state  of  monoideism , 
or  concentration  of  the  consciousness,  is  thus  effected. 
People  are  frequently  run  over  by  carriages,  cars,  or 
trains  on  account  of  the  sudden  great  fright  caused. 
The  one  idea  of  danger  reverberates  in  the  mind  like  a 
sudden  powerful  clap  of  thunder,  confusing  and  stun¬ 
ning  all  other  ideas ;  the  mind  is  brought  into  a  con¬ 
tracted  cataleptic  condition,  and  the  field  of  conscious¬ 
ness  is  narrowed  down  to  that  one  idea,  to  a  single 
point.  Now,  we  find  that  the  hypnotic  trance  can  also 
be  induced  by  a  strong  and  sudden  stimulus  acting 
on  the  sense  organ.  “  Hypnotization,”  says  Binet,* 
“  can  be  produced  by  strong  and  sudden  excitement  of 
the  senses.”  This  mode  of  hypnotization  may  be  suc¬ 
cessful  with  people  of  an  intensely  emotional  nature  or 


*  Animal  Magnetism. 


CONDITIONS  OF  ABNORMAL  SUGGESTIBILITY.  61 


with  hysterical  subjects.  A  strong,  sudden  stimulus 
acts  on  them  like  a  thunderclap,  contracts  their  field 
of  consciousness,  and  throws  them  into  a  hypnotic  state. 
On  the  whole,  we  may  say  that  limitation  of  the  field 
of  consciousness  is  one  of  the  most  important  condi¬ 
tions  of  hypnotic  trance. 

5.  The  hypnotic  trance,  again,  can  not  be  induced 
without  the  condition  of  inhibition.  The  subject  must 
inhibit  all  ideas,  all  images  that  come  up  before  his  mind. 
He  must  only  think  of  the  brilliant  point,  of  the  tips  of 
the  hypnotizer’s  fingers,  of  the  passes,  of  the  idea  of 
going  to  sleep.  “  Look  at  me  and  think  of  nothing  but 
sleep,”  tells  Bernheim  to  his  patients.  “  Make  your 
mind  a  blank,”  is  one  of  the  conditions  required  by  the 
hypnotizer  of  his  subjects.  Concentration  of  attention 
and  limitation  of  the  field  of  consciousness  are,  in  fact, 
impossible  without  the  presence  of  this  condition  of 
inhibition.  The  case  of  the  boy  mentioned  above,  who 
could  not  be  hypnotized  because  his  attention  was 
roaming,  because  he  was  unable  to  concentrate  his 
mind,  was  in  reality  due  to  the  fact  of  lacking  the 
power  of  inhibition.  Inhibition,  voluntary  or  involun¬ 
tary,  is  an  indispensable  condition  of  hypnosis. 

To  make  a  synopsis  of  the  conditions  of  hypnosis, 
or,  what  is  the  same,  of  abnormal  suggestibility : 

1.  Fixation  of  attention. 

2.  Monotony. 

3.  Limitation  of  voluntary  movements. 

4.  Limitation  of  the  field  of  consciousness. 

5.  Inhibition. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

THE  NATURE  OF  ABNORMAL  SUGGESTIBILITY. 

From  the  condition  of  hypnosis  we  turn  now  to  an 
inquiry  into  its  nature.  To  do  this  I  think  it  would  he 
best  to  examine  from  a  purely  empirical  standpoint  the 
general  states  into  which  the  hypnotic  subject  may  fall. 

Bernheim  finds  that  there  are  not  less  than  nine 
states  or  stages : 

1.  Drowsiness. 

2.  Drowsiness,  with  inability  to  open  the  eyes. 

3.  Suggestive  catalepsy  slightly  present. 

4.  Suggestive  catalepsy  more  pronounced. 

5.  Suggestive  contractures  fully  induced. 

6.  Automatic  obedience. 

7.  Loss  of  memory  on  waking.  Hallucinations  not 
possible. 

8.  Loss  of  memory.  Slight  possibility  of  producing 
hallucinations,  but  not  post-hypnotically. 

9.  Loss  of  memory.  Hypnotic  and  post-hypnotic 
hallucinations  possible. 

Dr.  Liebault  finds  that  there  are  only  six  of  them  : 

1.  Drowsiness. 

2.  Drowsiness.  Suggestive  catalepsy  inducible. 

3.  Light  sleep.  Automatic  movements  possible. 

4.  Deep  sleep.  Phenomena  rapport  manifested. 

5.  Light  somnambulism.  Memory  hazy  on  waking. 

62 


THE  NATURE  OF  ABNORMAL  SUGGESTIBILITY.  63 

6.  Deep  somnambulism.  Total  amnesia.  Phe¬ 
nomena  of  post-hypnotic  suggestion  possible. 

Prof.  August  Forel  reduces  them  to  three  : 

1.  Drowsiness. 

2.  Inability  to  open  the  eyes.  Obedience  to  sug¬ 
gestion. 

3.  Somnambulism.  Amnesia. 

Dr.  Lloyd-Tukey  gives  the  following  states : 

1.  Light  sleep. 

2.  Profound  sleep. 

3.  Somnambulism. 

Max  Dessoir  reduces  them  to  two : 

1.  Voluntary  movements  show  changes. 

2.  Abnormalities  in  the  functions  of  the  sense  or¬ 
gans  are  added. 

Edmund  Gurney,  the  most  philosophical  of  all  the 
writers  and  investigators  on  the  subject  of  hypnotism, 
gives  the  following  two  states : 

1.  The  alert  state. 

2.  The  deep  state. 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  however,  the  subjects  little 
respect  all  those  quasi-scientific  classifications  of  hyp¬ 
notic  states.  Dr.  Kingsbury  is  no  doubt  right  in  his 
remark  that  “  patients  vary  as  much  in  hypnosis  as  they 
do  in  their  features.”  Ko  doubt  there  are  as  many 
hypnotic  states  as  there  are  persons ;  no  doubt  that  it 
is  utterly  impossible  to  give  cut-and-dried  definitions 
for  the  infinite  variety  of  hypnotic  stages.  Although 
all  this  is  perfectly  true,  we  still  assert  that  there  is  a 
line  of  subdivision — a  boundary  line  that  separates  one 
region  of  hypnotic  phenomena  from  that  of  another. 
This  boundary  line  is,  in  fact,  implied  in  nearly  all  the 
classifications  of  hypnosis. 

To  find  this  boundary  line,  let  us  examine  the  state 


64 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OP  SUGGESTION. 


of  mind  of  the  subject  when  he  is  in  a  light  hyp¬ 
notic  trance.  The  subject  is  in  a  passive  condition.  If 
during  hypnotization  he  was  sitting  in  a  chair,  there 
he  will  remain  until  roused,  his  limbs  relaxed,  his  fea¬ 
tures  placid,  making  as  few  movements  as  possible, 
occasionally  changing  his  position  if  it  becomes  very 
uncomfortable.  If  his  eyes  are  closed,  he  will  continue 
to  keep  them  in  that  condition.  Try  now  to  make  a 
direct  suggestion  that  might  in  the  least  interfere  with 
what  he  considers  as  his  voluntary  life,  with  his  free¬ 
dom  of  action ;  challenge  him,  for  instance,  by  raising 
his  hand  and  telling  him  that  he  can  not  lower  it,  that 
he  can  not  open  his  eyes ;  down  goes  the  hand  and  up 
goes  the  eyelid,  thus  showing  us  that,  passive  as  he  ap¬ 
pears  to  be,  he  does  have  control  over  his  limbs. 
The  controlling  consciousness  is  there,  only  it  is  in¬ 
active,  passive,  and  it  requires  a  special  external  stimu¬ 
lus  to  set  it  going,  to  put  it  into  activity.  My  friend 
Mr.  L.  told  me  once  he  wondered  greatly  at  the  passiv¬ 
ity  in  which  he  was  when  in  a  state  of  hypnosis.  He 
told  me  he  firmly  made  up  his  mind  that  when  hypno¬ 
tized  again  he  would  start  a  conversation  on  different 
topics.  A  few  minutes  later  I  hypnotized  him,  but  he 
remained  as  passive  as  usual.  To  start  him  into  activ¬ 
ity  an  impulse  from  without  was  first  required.  Mark 
now  the  peculiarity.  The  activity  set  going  does  not 
continue  longer  than  the  challenged  act.  I  raise  the 
subject’s  arm  and  challenge  him  to  lower  it ;  he  does 
lower  the  arm,  but  keeps  it  down  there  in  a  passive 
condition.  I  tell  the  subject  he  is  unable  to  walk ;  the 
challenge  is  accepted ;  he  makes  a  step,  very  rarely 
two,  showing  me  that  he  can  walk,  that  he  possesses 
full  control  over  his  legs,  but  remains  passively  in  one 
place.  He  makes  another  step  if  you  challenge  him 


THE  NATURE  OF  ABNORMAL  SUGGESTIBILITY.  65 


again.  The  controlling  consciousness  is  in  a  passive 
state ,  and  reasserts  itself  at  every  single  challenge  to 
act.  The  act  done,  and  the  controlling  consciousness 
falls  hack  into  its  former  state — the  subject  relapses 
into  his  passive  condition.  Hypnotization  produces  a 
deep  cleft  in  the  mind  of  the  subject,  a  cleft  by  which 
the  waking,  controlling  consciousness  is  separated  from 
the  great  stream  of  conscious  life. 

ISTow  when  the  cleft  is  not  deep  enough  we  have  the 
different  slight  hypnotic  states,  but  as  the  cleft  becomes 
deeper  and  deeper  the  hypnosis  grows  more  profound, 
and  when  the  controlling  consciousness  is  fully  cut  off 
from  the  rest  of  conscious  life  we  have  a  state  of  full  hyp¬ 
nosis  which  is  commonly  called  somnambulism,  and  in 
which  there  is  complete  amnesia  on  awakening.  That  is 
why  we  have  the  strange  accounts  of  hypnotic  subjects, 
especially  of  those  who  are  on  the  verge  of  somnambu¬ 
lism,  that  during  hypnosis  they  were  indifferent  to  the 
actions  of  their  body — the  latter  acted  by  itself ;  that 
they  were  mere  spectators  of  all  the  experiments  per¬ 
formed  on  them,  of  all  the  strange  actions,  dramas,  that 
transpired  during  the  trance ;  that  it  seemed  to  them  as  if 
they  themselves,  their  personality,  retreated  far,  far  away. 
We  have  not  to  wonder  that  on  the  question  “  Where 
are  you  ?  ”  the  subject  sometimes  gives  the  seemingly 
absurd  reply  of  Krafft-Ebing’s  patient—  u  In  your  eye.” 

There  are  pathological  cases  on  record  which  are 
analogous  to  this  state.  The  conscious  controlling  “  I  ” 
seems  to  retreat  far,  far  away  from  the  world.  Dr. 
Krishaber  brings  the  case  of  a  patient  who  gives  the 
following  account  of  himself :  “  I  myself  was  immeas¬ 
urably  far  away.  I  looked  about  me  with  terror  and 
astonishment ;  the  world  was  escaping  from  me.  I  re¬ 
marked  at  the  6ame  time  that  my  voice  was  extremely 


66 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  SUGGESTION. 


far  away  from  me,  that  it  sounded  no  longer  as  if  mine. 
Constantly  it  seemed  to  me  as  if  my  legs  did  not  belong 
to  me.  It  was  almost  as  bad  with  my  arms.  I  appeared 
to  myself  to  act  automatically,  by  an  impulsion  foreign 
to  myself.  It  was  certainly  another  who  had  taken  my 
form  and  assumed  my  functions.  I  hated,  I  despised 
this  other  ;  he  was  perfectly  odious  to  me.” 

To  return,  however,  to  hypnosis.  In  the  superficial 
stages,  when  the  subject  is  not  in  a  very  deep  trance, 
we  frequently  meet  with  curious  phenomena  of  the 
following  kind :  I  raise  the  hand  of  the  subject  and  put 
it  in  some  uncomfortable  position  and  let  it  remain 
there ;  there  it  stays  all  the  while.  I  challenge  him  to 
lower  his  hand.  He  does  not  answer.  I  repeat  again 
the  challenge.  Ho  reply.  “Answer  me:  Why  do  not 
you  lower  the  hand  ?  ”  “I  do  not  care  to,”  comes 
the  slow  answer.  1  keep  on  challenging  him  for  some 
seconds.  At  last  the  stimuli  get  summated,  the  con¬ 
trolling  consciousness  is  stimulated,  makes  strenuous 
efforts,  and  the  hand,  shaking  and  in  jerks,  slowly  de¬ 
scends.  I  tell  the  subject  that  he  forgot  his  name,  that 
he  can  by  no  means  remember  it.  He  keeps  silent. 
“  You  forgot  your  name,  you  do  not  remember  it,”  I 
assert  firmly  and  positively.  “  Yes,  I  do,”  comes  in  a 
low  voice  the  slow  and  tardy  reply.  “  But  you  do  not 
know  your  name.”  “  Yes,  I  do.”  “  Ho,  you  don’t.” 
“  Yes,  I  do.”  And  so  he  wrangles  with  me  for  about 
three  or  five  minutes,  until  at  last  he  seems  to  brace 
himself  up  and  tells  me  his  name.  u  But  why  did  you 
not  tell  it  to  me  before  ?  ”  “I  really  do  not  care  to 
tell  my  name.”  The  cleft  in  the  mind  is  here  of  some 
depth,  and  it  requires  a  strong  challenge,  an  intense 
stimulus,  to  set  the  controlling  consciousness  into  ac¬ 
tivity. 


THE  NATURE  OF  ABNORMAL  SUGGESTIBILITY.  67 


When  the  patient  sinks  into  a  deeper  and  deeper 
hypnotic  condition,  when  the  hypnosis  is  so  profound 
as  to  verge  on  somnambulism,  the  waking,  controlling 
consciousness  hangs,  so  to  say,  on  a  thread  to  the  rest 
of  organic  life ;  and  when  that  thread,  too,  is  cut  off  by 
suggestion,  or  by  some  other  means,  the  waking,  guiding 
consciousness  loses  all  contact  with  the  stream  of  life. 

We  can  easily  state  our  theory  in  terms  of  physi¬ 
ological  psychology.  The  nervous  centres  of  man’s 
nervous  system,  if  classified  as  to  function,  may  be 
divided  into  inferior  and  superior.  The  inferior  cen¬ 
tres  are  characterized  by  reflex  and  automatic  activity. 
A  stimulus  excites  the  peripheral  nerve  endings  of 
some  sense  organ ;  at  once  a  nervous  current  is  set 
up  in  the  afferent  nerves.  This  current  in  its  turn 
stimulates  a  plexus  of  central  ganglia,  the  nervous 
energy  of  which  is  set  free  and  is  propagated  along  the 
efferent  nerves  toward  glands  or  muscles ;  secretions, 
excretions,  muscular  contractions,  or  relaxations  are 
the  final  result.  Ingoing  and  outgoing  nervous  cur¬ 
rents  may  be  modified  by  the  nervous  centres  ;  nervous 
currents  may  be  intensified,  decreased  in  energy,  or 
even  entirely  inhibited  by  mutual  interaction,  according 
to  the  law  derived  by  Prof.  Ziehen  from  the  general 
physiology  of  the  nerves — namely :  “  If  an  excitation  of 
definite  intensity  (m)  take  place  in  one  cortical  ele¬ 
ment  (5),  and  another  excitation  of  a  different  intensity 
( n )  take  place  at  the  same  time  in  another  cortical  ele¬ 
ment  (c),  which  is  connected  by  a  path  of  conduction 
with  b,  the  two  intensities  of  excitation  may  recip¬ 
rocally  modify  each  other.”  Although  such  a  modifi¬ 
cation  may  frequently  occur,  still  it  remains  true  that 
the  inferior  centres  are  of  a  reflex  nature.  Ho  sooner 
is  the  nervous  energy  of  a  lower  centre  set  free  than  at 


68 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OP  SUGGESTION. 


once  it  tends  to  discharge  itself  into  some  kind  of  ac¬ 
tion,  of  movement.  The  physiological  process  of  set¬ 
ting  free  the  nervous  energy  in  a  central  ganglion,  or 
in  a  system  of  central  ganglia,  is  accompanied  in  the 
simpler  hut  more  integrated,  more  organized  centres 
by  sentience,  sensitiveness,  sensibility,*  and  in  the  more 
complex  but  less  integrated,  less  organized  centres  by 
consciousness,  sensations,  perceptions,  images,  and 
ideas. 

Turning  now  to  the  superior  or  the  highest  nervous 
centres,  we  find  that  they  possess  the  function  of  choice 
and  will.  A  number  of  impressions,  of  sensations,  of 
ideas  reach  those  will-centres,  and  a  sifting,  a  selecting, 
an  inhibitory  process  at  once  begins.  Some  of  the  im¬ 
pressions  are  rejected,  inhibited ;  others  are  permitted 
to  work  themselves  out  within  certain  limits,  and  others 
again  are  given  full,  free  play.  Psychologically,  this 
process  expresses  itself  in  the  fiat  or  the  neget ,  in  the 
“  I  will  ”  or  the  “  I  will  not.”  Every  one  is  well  ac¬ 
quainted  with  the  will-effort,  especially  when  having  to 
make  some  momentous  resolution.  These  superior 
choice  and  will-centres,  localized  by  Ferrier,  Bianchi, 
and  others  in  the  frontal  lobes,  and  by  other  writers  in 
the  upper  layers  of  the  cortex — these  centres,  on  ac¬ 
count  of  their  selective  and  inhibitory  function,  may  be 
characterized  as  inhibitory  centres  par  excellence. 

FTow,  parallel  to  the  double  system  of  nervous  cen¬ 
tres,  the  inferior  and  the  superior,  we  also  have  a  double 
consciousness ,  the  inferior,  the  organic,  the  reflex  con¬ 
sciousness,  and  the  superior,  the  controlling,  the  choice, 
and  will  consciousness.  The  controlling  consciousness 
may  be  characterized  as  the  guardian  consciousness  of 


*  See  G.  H.  Lewes’s  Problems  of  Life  and  Mind,  second  series. 


THE  NATURE  OF  ABNORMAL  SUGGESTIBILITY.  69 


the  species.  And  from  an  evolutionary  teleological 
standpoint  we  can  well  see  of  what  use  this  guardian 
consciousness  is  to  the  life  of  the  species.  The  external 
world  bombards,  so  to  say,  the  living  organism  with 
innumerable  stimuli ;  from  all  sides  thousands  of  im¬ 
pressions  come  on,  crowding  upon  the  senses  of  the 
individual.  Each  impression  has  a  motor  tendency 
which,  if  not  counteracted  by  other  impressions,  must 
fatally  result  in  some  action.  It  is  not,  however,  of 
advantage  to  the  organism  always  to  act,  and  to  act 
immediately  on  all  stimuli  reaching  it ;  hence  that 
organism  will  succeed  in  the  struggle  for  life  that  pos¬ 
sesses  some  inhibitory  choice  and  will-centres.  The 
choice  and  will-centres  permit  only  a  certain  number  of 
impressions  to  take  effect ;  the  rest  are  inhibited.  Only 
those  impressions  that  are  advantageous  to  the  life  ex¬ 
istence  of  the  organism  are  allowed  to  take  their  course ; 
the  others  are  nipped  in  their  bud.  The  guardian  con¬ 
sciousness  wards  off  as  far  as  it  is  able  all  the  harm¬ 
ful  blows  with  which  the  environment  incessantly  as¬ 
sails  the  organic  life  of  the  individual. 

Having  all  this  in  mind,  we  can  now  understand  the 
nature  of  hypnosis.  In  the  normal  condition  of  man 
the  superior  and  the  inferior  centres  work  in  perfect 
harmony ;  the  upper  and  the  lower  consciousness  are 
for  all  practical  purposes  blended  into  a  unity  forming 
one  conscious  personality.  In  hypnosis  the  two  systems 
of  nervous  centres  are  dissociated,  the  superior  centres 
and  the  upper  consciousness  are  inhibited,  or,  better, 
cut  off,  split  off  from  the  rest  of  the  nervous  system 
with  its  organic  consciousness,  which  is  thus  laid  bare, 
open  to  the  influence  of  external  stimuli  or  suggestions. 
Physiologically,  hypnosis  is  an  inhibition  of  the  in¬ 
hibitory  centres ,  or,  in  other  words,  hypnosis  is  a  dis- 


70 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  SUGGESTION. 


aggregation  of  the  superior  from  the  inferior  centres , 
necessarily  followed,  as  is  the  removal  of  inhibition  in 
general ,  by  an  increase  of  the  ideo-motor  and  ideo-sen- 
sory  reflex  excitability .  Psychologically,  hypnosis  is  the 
split-off ’  disaggregated ,  organic ,  reflex  consciousness 
pure  and  simple. 

This  theory  of  hypnosis  is,  in  fact,  a  generalization 
in  which  the  views  of  the  two  schools,  the  Salpetriere 
and  the  Nancy,  are  included.  With  the  Nancy  school, 
we  agree  that  suggestion  is  all-powerful  in  hypnotic 
trance  ;  the  hypnotic  trance  is,  in  fact,  a  state  of  height¬ 
ened  suggestibility,  or,  rather  of  pure  reflex  con¬ 
sciousness  ;  but  with  the  Paris  school  we  agree,  that  a 
changed  physiological  state  is  a  prerequisite  to  hyp¬ 
nosis,  and  this  modification  consists  in  the  disaggrega¬ 
tion  of  the  superior  from  the  inferior  centres,  in  the 
segregation  of  the  controlling  consciousness  from  the 
reflex  consciousness.  In  hypnotic  trance  the  upper  in¬ 
hibiting,  resisting  consciousness  being  absent,  we  have 
direct  access  to  man’s  organic  consciousness,  and  through 
it  to  organic  life  itself.  Strong,  persistent  impressions 
or  suggestions  made  on  the  reflex  organic  consciousness 
of  the  inferior  centres  may  modify  their  functional  dis¬ 
position,  induce  trophic  changes,  and  even  change  or¬ 
ganic  structures.  But  whatever  the  case  may  be  with 
regard  to  psycho-therapeutics,  this,  it  seems,  may  be 
fairly  granted,  that  the  process  of  hypnotization  consists 
in  the  separation  of  the  higher  inhibitory  cortical  gan¬ 
glion  cells  from  the  rest  of  the  cerebro-spinal  and  sym-  . 
pathetic  nervous  systems.  Hypnosis,  we  may  say,  is  the 
more  or  less  effected  disaggregation  of  the  controlling 
inhibitory  centres  from  the  rest  of  the  nervous  system ; 
along  with  this  disaggregation  there  goes  a  dissociation 
of  the  controlling  guardian  consciousness  from  the  reflex 


THE  NATURE  OF  ABNORMAL  SUGGESTIBILITY.  71 


organic  consciousness.  Dissociation  is  the  secret  of 
hypnosis ,  amd  amnesia  is  the  ripe  fruit. 

The  magnitude  of  this  disaggregation  greatly  varies. 
If  it  is  at  its  minimum,  the  hypnosis  is  light ;  if  at  its 
maximum,  the  hypnosis  is  deep,  and  is  known  as  som¬ 
nambulism. 

From  our  standpoint  of  hypnosis  we  may  say  that 
there  are  only  two  great  distinct  classes  of  hypnotic  states : 

1.  Incomplete  dissociation  of  the  waking,  controlling 
consciousness. 

2.  Complete  dissociation  of  the  waking  conscious¬ 
ness. 

Stating  the  same  somewhat  differently,  we  may  say 
that  there  are  two  states  : 

1.  Incomplete  hypnosis  accompanied  by  a  greater 
or  lesser  degree  of  memory. 

2.  Complete  hypnosis  with  no  memory. 

In  other  words,  hypnosis  has  two  states  : 

1.  The  mnesic  state. 

2.  The  amnesic  state. 

Amnesia  is  the  boundary  line  that  separates  two 
different  hypnotic  regions. 

This  view  of  the  matter  is,  in  fact,  taken  by  Ed¬ 
mund  Gourney ;  for  he  tells  us  that  “  we  might  with¬ 
out  incorrectness  describe  the  higher  hypnotic  phenom¬ 
ena  as  reflex  action,  in  respect  of  the  certainty  with 
which  particular  movements  follow  on  particular  stim¬ 
uli  ;  but  they  are,  and  their  peculiarity  consists  in  their 
being,  conscious  reflex  action”*  “The  heart  of  the 
problem  [of  hypnotism]  ”  he  says  in  another  place,  “  lies 
not  in  consciousness,  but  in  will.”  In  his  paper  on 
The  Stages  of  Hypnotism, f  E.  Gourney  distinguishes 

*  Mind,  October,  1884.  P.  S.  P.  R.,  December,  1884. 
f  Ibid.,  January,  1884.  P.  S.  P.  R.,  January,  1884. 

6 


/ 


72 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  SUGGESTION. 


two  states  of  hypnosis — the  alert  and  the  deejp  state. 
“  The  question  then  presents  itself,”  he  writes,  “  Is  there 
any  distinction  of  hind  between  the  two  states  ?  I  be¬ 
lieve  that  there  is  such  a  distinction,  and  that  the  phe¬ 
nomena  needed  to  establish  it  are  to  be  found  in  the 
domain  of  memory .”  Gurney,  however,  thinks  that 
not  only  is  the  deep ,  but  the  hypnotic  state  as  a  whole, 
that  is,  the  alert  one,  too,  is  separated  from  the  normal 
state  by  amnesia — a  proposition  which  is  not  borne  out 
by  facts.  On  the  whole,  however,  I  may  say  that  Gur¬ 
ney  was  on  the  right  track  ;  he  cast  a  searching  glance 
deep  into  the  nature  of  hypnosis. 

If  we  turn  now  to  the  classifications  reviewed  by 
us  we  find  that  they  have  a  change  of  memory,  am¬ 
nesia,  as  their  fundamentum  divisionis.  Max  Des- 
soir’s  forms  the  only  exception,  but  his  classification 
sins  against  the  truth  of  facts.  For  there  are  cases  of 
subjects  who  fall  into  deep  hypnosis  and  still  there 
can  be  induced  no  abnormal  changes  in  the  sense  or¬ 
gans.  I  myself  have  a  somnambule,  Mr.  F.,  who  can 
be  led  through  a  series  of  imaginary  scenes  and  changes 
of  personalities,  but  whose  sense  organs  remain  almost 
normal,  perfectly  free  from  suggestion ;  by  no  means 
can  I  make  him  see  a  picture  on  a  blank  paper,  or  feel 
the  taste  of  sugar  on  eating  salt,  or  take  a  glass  of 
water  for  a  glass  of  wine — phenomena  which  I  easily 
induce  in  another  somnambule,  Mr.  W.  There  are 
again  other  cases  on  record  where  the  sense  organs  are 
deeply  affected,  but  no  abnormalities  can  be  induced 
in  the  voluntary  movements.  Bernheim  brings  a  few 
cases  of  this  kind.  Amnesia  is  the  only  boundary  line 
in  hypnosis ,  and  degeneration  of  consciousness  is  its 
source. 

Suggestion  is  at  present  the  shibboleth  of  many  a 


THE  NATURE  OF  ABNORMAL  SUGGESTIBILITY.  73 


“scientific”  psychologist.  Suggestion  is  the  magic  key 
that  opens  all  secrets  and  discloses  all  mysteries.  Sug¬ 
gestion  explains  everything.  To  any  question  as  to 
hypnosis  asked  of  the  suggestionist,  he,  like  a  parrot, 
has  but  one  answer  :  “Suggestion”  !  Well  may  Binet 
say :  *  “It  is  insufficient  to  explain  every  thing  that 
takes  place  in  hypnotized  subjects  by  invoking  the 
hackneyed  term  ‘Suggestion!’  And  that  suffices  for 
all  purposes ;  that  explains  everything,  and,  like  the 
panacea  of  the  ancients,  it  cures  everything.  As  a 
matter  of  fact,  theories  of  suggestion  thus  invoked 
amount  to  nothing  less  than  makeshifts  to  save  people 
the  trouble  of  serious  and  delicate  investigation.”  Sug- 
gestionists  make  of  suggestion  a  kind  of  metaphysical 
absolute,  a  Spinozistic  causa  sui ,  for,  according  to  this 
trance-philosophy,  hypnosis  is  nothing  but  suggestion ; 
and  by  what  is  it  induced  ?  Why,  by  suggestion !  Sug¬ 
gestion  is  thus  its  own  cause.  Absurd  as  this  trance- 
philosophy  of  suggestionism  is,  it  is  none  the  less  the 
current  view  of  many  a  “scientific”  psychologist.  Still 
the  authorities  on  the  subject  do  not  always  talk  the 
suggestion  jargon ;  in  their  more  lucid  states  they  use 
quite  a  different  language.  The  pity  only  is  that  they 
do  not  grasp  the  full  import  and  meaning  of  their  own 
propositions ;  they  do  not  see  the  far-reaching  conse¬ 
quences  of  their  own  statements. 

Dr.  Moll,  in  his  remarkable  book  on  Hypnotism, 
sums  up  his  theory  of  hypnosis  thus:  “We  may,  then, 
consider  every  hypnosis  as  a  state  in  which  the  normal 
course  of  the  ideas  is  inhibited.  It  matters  not  whether 
the  ideas  have  to  do  with  movements  or  with  sense  im¬ 
pressions.  Their  normal  course  is  always  inhibited. 


*  On  Double  Consciousness. 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OP  SUGGESTION. 


74 

The  idea  of  a  movement  called  up  in  a  subject  in  or  out 
of  hypnosis  has  a  tendency  to  induce  the  movement. 
But  in  waking  life  this  idea  is  made  ineffectual  by  the 
voluntary  idea  of  the  subject  that  he  will  prevent  the 
suggested  movement  •  the  hypnotized  subject  can  not  do 
this.*  The  same  is  the  case  with  suggested  paralysis. 
Sense  delusions  can  be  explained  in  a  similar  way.  "We 
tell  the  hypnotic  subject,  4  Here  is  a  dog,’  and  he  realizes 
it,  and  sees  the  dog.  The  limitation  of  the  normal 
course  of  the  ideas  allows  the  idea  of  the  dog  to  be¬ 
come  a  perception.  The  subject  is  unable  to  control 
the  external  ideas,  or  to  put  forward  his  own  ;  the  ex¬ 
ternal  ones  dominate  his  consciousness.  Psychologically 
speaking,  what  we  mean  by  attention  is  the  power  of 
fixing  certain  ideas  in  the  mind  and  of  working  with 
them.  Consequently  we  may  say  that  there  is  an  alter¬ 
ation  of  attention  in  hypnosis.  But  attention  may  be 
either  spontaneous  or  reflex.  When  by  any  act  of  will 
we  choose  one  of  several  ideas  and  fix  our  attention 
upon  it,  this  is  spontaneous  attention ;  but  when  one 
idea  among  several  gets  the  upper  hand  through  its  in¬ 
tensity  or  for  some  other  reason,  and  thus  represses 
other  ideas  and  draws  exclusive  attention  upon  itself, 
this  is  reflex  attention.  ISTow  it  is  only  spontaneous  at¬ 
tention  which  is  altered  in  hypnosis — i.  e.,  the  subject’s 
ability  voluntarily  to  prefer  one  idea  to  another  is  inter¬ 
fered  with,  while  reflex  attention  is  undisturbed,  and  it 
is  through  this  last  that  a  suggested  idea,  the  choice  of 
which  has  not,  however,  been  left  to  the  subject,  comes 
into  prominence. 

44  Many  investigators,”  continues  Dr.  Moll,  44  con¬ 
ceive  hypnotism  in  this  way.  The  works  of  Durand 


*  The  italics  are  mine. 


THE  NATURE  OF  ABNORMAL  SUGGESTIBILITY.  75 


de  Gros,  Liebault,  and  more  lately  of  Beard,  Bichet, 
Schneider,  Wundt,  and  Bentivegni,  are  in  the  main  di¬ 
rect  to  this  point.” 

It  is  truly  amusing  to  see  how  people  concede  the 
main  substance  to  their  opponents  and  still  cling  to  the 
empty  shell  of  their  old  creeds.  Accepting  inhibition 
of  spontaneous  attention  as  the  source,  as  the  nature  of 
hypnosis,  the  psychologist  of  the  suggestion  school  fully 
abandons  his  medical  charm,  his  all-powerful  magic 
suggestion.  Inhibition  of  spontaneous  attention,  of 
voluntary  control,  leaving  a  residue  of  reflex  attention, 
what  is  it,  if  not  the  full  admission  that  the  hypnotic 
state  is  a  mental  disaggregation,  a  dissociation  of  the 
controlling  from  the  reflex  consciousness  ? 

Turning  now  to  one  of  the  leaders  of  the  Haney 
school,  to  the  greatest  popularizer  of  suggestionism — 
Prof.  Bernheim — we  find  him  to  be  still  more  explicit 
on  this  point.  I  humbly  ask  the  reader’s  pardon  for 
the  lengthy  quotation  I  am  going  to  offer  him.  I  find 
it  will  give  additional  confirmation  to  my  view  of  the 
nature  of  hypnosis.  In  his  book,  “  Suggestive  Thera¬ 
peutics,”  Bernheim  gives  us  the  following  account  of 
hypnosis,  an  account  that  practically  amounts  to  a  com¬ 
plete  abandonment  of  his  omnipotent  deity — suggestion : 
“  The  one  thing  certain  is  that  a  peculiar  aptitude  for 
transforming  the  idea  received  into  an  act  exists  in  hyp¬ 
notized  subjects  who  are  susceptible  to  suggestion.  In 
the  normal  consciousness  every  formulated  idea  is  ques¬ 
tioned  by  the  mind.  After  being  perceived  by  the 
cortical  centres,  the  impression  extends  to  the  cells  of 
the  adjacent  convolutions ;  their  peculiar  activity  is 
excited ;  the  diverse  faculties  generated  by  the  gray 
substance  of  the  brain  come  into  play  ;  the  impression 
is  elaborated,  registered,  and  analyzed  by  means  of  a 


76 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  SUGGESTION. 


complex  mental  process  which  ends  in  its  acceptation 
or  neutralization ;  if  there  is  cause,  the  mind  vetoes  it. 
In  the  hypnotized  subject,  on  the  contrary,  the  trans¬ 
formation  of  thought  into  action,  sensation,  movement, 
or  vision  is  so  quickly  and  so  actively  accomplished  that 
the  intellectual  inhibition  has  not  time  to  act.  When 
the  mind  interposes,  it  is  already  an  accomplished  fact, 
which  is  often  registered  with  surprise,  and  which  is 
confirmed  by  the  fact  that  it  proves  to  be  real,  and  no 
intervention  can  hamper  it  further.  If  I  say  to  the 
hypnotized  subject,  ‘Your  hand  remained  closed,’  the 
brain  carries  out  the  idea  as  soon  as  it  is  formulated ; 
reflex  is  immediately  transmitted  from  the  cortical 
centre,  where  the  idea  induced  by  the  auditory  nerve  is 
perceived,  to  the  motor  centre,  corresponding  to  the 
central  origin  of  the  nerves  subserving  flexion  of  the 
hand ;  contracture  occurs  in  flexion.  There  is  then 
exaltation  of  the  ideo-motor  reflex  excitability,  which 
effects  the  unconscious  (subconscious?)  transformation 
of  the  thought  into  movement  unknown  to  the  will. 
The  same  thing  occurs  when  I  say  to  the  hypnotized 
subject,  ‘You  have  a  tickling  sensation  in  your  nose.’ 
The  thought  induced  through  hearing  is  reflected  upon 
the  centre  of  olfactory  sensibility,  where  it  awakens  the 
sensitive  memory  image  of  the  nasal  itching  as  former 
impressions  have  created  it  and  left  it  imprinted  and 
latent.  This  memory  sensation  thus  resuscitated  may  be 
intense  enough  to  cause  the  reflex  action  of  sneezing. 
There  is  also,  then,  exaltation  of  the  ideo-sensorial  reflex 
excitability,  which  effects  the  unconscious  transformation 
of  the  thought  into  sensation,  or  into  a  sensory  image. 
In  the  same  way  the  visual,  acoustic,  and  gustatory 
images  succeed  the  suggested  idea. 

“  Negative  suggestions  are  more  difficult  to  explain. 


THE  NATURE  OF  ABNORMAL  SUGGESTIBILITY.  77 


If  I  say  to  the  hypnotized  subject,  ‘Your  body  is  in¬ 
sensible,  your  eye  is  blind,’  the  impression  transmitted 
by  the  auditory  nerve  to  the  centre  of  tactile  or  visual 
anaesthesia  is  that  retinal  vision  exists,  but  the  cerebral 
perception  no  longer  exists.  It  seems  as  if  it  might  be  a 
reflex  paralysis  of  a  cortical  centre  which  the  suggested 
idea  has  produced  in  this  case.  The  mechanism  of  sug¬ 
gestion  in  general  may  then  be  summed  up  in  the  fol¬ 
lowing  formula :  Increase  of  the  reflex  ideo-motor ,  ideo- 
sensorial  excitability .  In  the  same  way  through  the 
effect  of  some  influence — strychnine,  for  example — the 
sensitive-motor  excitability  is  increased  in  the  spinal  cord, 
so  that  the  least  impression  at  the  periphery  of  a  nerve 
is  immediately  transformed  into  contracture  without  the 
moderating  influence  of  the  brain  being  able  to  prevent 
this  transformation.  In  the  same  way  in  hypnotization 
the  ideo -reflex  excitability  is  increased  in  the  brain,  so 
that  any  idea  received  is  immediately  transformed  into 
an  act,  without  the  controlling  portion  of  the  brain, 
the  higher  centres,  being  able  to  prevent  the  transfor¬ 
mation.” 

Thus  we  clearly  see  that  when  the  suggestionist  comes 
to  discuss  the  nature  of  hypnosis,  he  abandons  his  posi¬ 
tion  and  admits  that  a  split  in  the  brain  cutting  off  the 
higher  controlling  centres  from  the  lower  ones  is  at  the 
basis  of  hypnosis.  The  very  conditions  of  hypnosis  pro¬ 
claim  this  fact,  for  they  are  but  keen  psychical  scalpels 
and  have  the  power  to  effect  a  deep  incision  in  the  semi¬ 
fluid  stream  of  consciousness.  Fixation  of  attention, 
monotony,  limitation  of  the  field  of  consciousness,  limita¬ 
tion  of  voluntary  movements,  inhibition — all  of  them  are 
calculated  to  pare,  to  split  off  the  controlling  from  the 
reflex  consciousness.  The  nature  of  hypnosis ,  of  abnor¬ 
mal  suggestibility ,  is  a  disaggregation  of  consciousness. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

THE  LAW  OF  ABNORMAL  SUGGESTIBILITY. 

A  close  examination  of  the  facts  of  hypnotic  sug¬ 
gestion  will  readily  yield  us  the  law  of  abnormal  sug¬ 
gestibility. 

I  hypnotize  Mr.  N.,  and  tell  him  that  on  awakening, 
when  he  will  hear  me  cough,  he  will  go  to  the  table, 
take  the  Bible,  open  it  on  the  first  page,  and  read  aloud 
the  first  verse  of  the  first  chapter.  He  is  then  awak¬ 
ened.  I  cough.  He  rises,  walks  up  to  the  table,  but 
stops  there  and  does  not  budge.  I  rehypnotize  him. 
He  tells  me  he  did  not  want  to  carry  out  the  sugges¬ 
tion.  “  But  you  must  do  it ! 55  I  insist.  “  You  must 
go  to  the  table,  open  the  Bible  on  the  first  page,  and 
read  the  first  verse  of  the  first  chapter.  You  must  do 
it !  you  can  not  help  doing  it !  ”  He  is  then  awak¬ 
ened,  and  this  time  the  post-hypnotic  suggestion  is  fully 
carried  out. 

I  hypnotize  Mr.  L.  “  Rise !  ”  I  command.  He 
rises.  “Walk!”  He  walks.”  “You  are  unable  to 
walk !  ”  He  makes  a  step  or  two,  showing  me  that  he 
can  easily  do  it.  “But  it  is  impossible  for  you  to 
walk ;  you  can  not  walk ;  you  are  utterly  unable  to 
walk ;  you  must  not,  and  you  can  not  walk ;  you  lost 
all  power  of  moving ;  no  matter  how  you  try,  you  find 
it  impossible  to  take  a  step ;  you  can  not  move  your 

78 


THE  LAW  OF  ABNORMAL  SUGGESTIBILITY.  79 


legs ;  you  have  lost  all  control  over  them ;  they  are 
stiff,  rigid,  and  firmly  fixed  to  the  ground.  Oh,  no,  you 
can  not  walk ;  it  is  a  physical  impossibility  for  you  to 
walk.”  I  go  on  in  this  way,  pouring  forth  a  torrent  of 
suggestions ;  and  this  time  my  suggestion  takes  full 
effect.  The  subject  tries  hard  to  move  ;  he  can  not  do 
it,  his  legs  are  rigid,  cataleptic. 

I  hypnotize  Mr.  J.  F.,  a  strong,  powerful,  healthy, 
burly  fellow.  “Rise!”  I  command.  He  rises.  “Walk!” 
He  walks.  “  You  can  not  move  !  ”  I  command  again  in 
a  somewhat  louder  voice.  The  subject  makes  a  step 
forward.  “  But  you  can  not  move !  ”  I  insist  in  a 
still  louder  voice  than  before,  laying  more  stress  on 
“can  not.”  He  makes  a  step  hesitatingly  and  with 
great  difficulty,  like  one  dragging  a  heavy  burden  on 
his  legs.  “  You  can  not  move !  ”  I  call  out  in  a  louder 
and  more  commanding  tone,  putting  still  more  empha¬ 
sis  on  the  suggestion  “can  not.”  The  subject  comes 
to  a  complete  standstill.  He  is  fully  paralyzed ;  by  no 
effort  of  will  can  he  take  a  step  forward. 

We  may  put  it  down  as  a  rule,  that  when  the  sug¬ 
gestion  is  not  taken  there  is  a  far  higher  probability  of 
bringing  it  into  effect  by  repeating  the  suggestion  over 
and  over  again  in  a  louder  key  and  in  a  more  com¬ 
manding  voice.  The  rule  of  hypnotic  suggestion  is, 
The  more  direct  we  make  our  suggestion  the  greater  the 
chance  of  its  success. 

If  we  examine  the  facts  of  suggestion  in  the  deeper 
states  of  hypnosis  we  find,  that  the  same  rule  holds  true. 
The  hypnotizer  must  make  himself  perfectly  under¬ 
stood  by  the  subject,  by  the  reflex  consciousness  of  the 

patient. 

I  hypnotize  Mr.  L.,  make  passes  over  his  hand,  and 
suggest  that  it  is  rigid,  stiff .  It  becomes  cataleptic.  On 


80 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  SUGGESTION. 


a  second  occasion,  when  I  make  the  passes,  his  hand  be¬ 
comes  rigid ;  he  knows  from  previous  experiments  what 
it  is  I  want  of  him.* 

The  experiments  of  Braid,  Heidenhein,  etc.,  and  the 
controversy  between  the  Nancy  and  Salpetriere  school 
beautifully  bring  out  this  general  rule  of  hypnosis. 
Thus  Braid,  in  his  Neurypnology,  tells  us  of  some 
phreno-hypnotic  experiments  he  made  with  a  subject. 
“This  patient,”  he  writes,  “being  pressed  over  the 
phrenologist’s  organ  of  time,  always  expressed  a  desire 
6  to  write  ’  a  letter  to  her  mother  or  her  brother ;  over 
the  organ  of  tune ,  ‘  to  sing  ’ ;  between  this  and  wit,  6  to 
be  judicious  ’ ;  the  boundary  between  wit  and  causality, 
6  to  be  clever  ’ ;  causality,  6  to  have  knowledge,’  and  so 
on.”  f 

Heidenhein  found  that  in  pressing  certain  regions 
of  the  subject’s  body  certain  abnormal  phenomena  ap¬ 
peared  ;  that  in  pressing  the  neck  echolalia  resulted — 
the  patient  repeated  everything  that  was  said  before  him 
with  the  exactness  of  a  phonograph  ;  that  the  stimula¬ 
tion  of  the  neck  produced  vocal  sounds,  as  in  Goltz’s 
experiments.  Silva,  Binet,  Fere,  and  Heidenhein  be¬ 
lieve  that  they  can  move  single  limbs  of  the  somnambule 
by  stimulating  the  parts  of  the  head  which  correspond 
to  the  motor  centres  of  the  limbs  concerned.  Chalan- 
der  even  proposed  to  study  the  physiology  of  the  brain 
in  this  way.  Charcot,  Dumontpallier,  Berillon,  Lepine, 
Strahl,  Griitzner,  and  Heidenhein  regard  hemihypnosis 
— that  is,  hypnosis  of  one  side  of  the  body — as  a  physi¬ 
ological  condition  induced  by  the  closing  of  one  eye  or 

*  Sphygmographic  or  pulse  tracings  illustrate  well  this  state  of 
catalepsy  (see  diagram,  Plate  I). 

f  I  must  add  here  that  Braid,  in  his  later  investigations  in  hyp¬ 
nosis.  became  fully  aware  of  the  real  source  of  the  phenomena. 


THE  LAW  OF  ABNORMAL  SUGGESTIBILITY.  81 

by  friction  of  one  half  of  the  crown  of  the  head.  Binet 
and  Fere  claim  that  a  magnet  can  effect  a  transfer  of 
anaesthesia,  etc.,  to  the  opposite  side  of  the  body. 

Now  such  experiments  in  variably  fail  when  made 
by  other  observers  and  on  other  subjects.  Braid  him¬ 
self  tells  us : *  “I  also  very  soon  ascertained  that  the 
same  points  of  the  cranium  when  thus  excited  did  not 
excite  the  same  ideas  or  emotions  in  the  minds  of  differ¬ 
ent  patients,  which  I  considered  ought  to  have  been  the 
case.”  He  hastens,  however,  to  add  :  “  I  have  since  dis¬ 
covered  the  cause  of  this — namely,  not  having  operated 
at  the  proper  stage  of  the  hypnotic  condition .”  The 
Italics  are  his  own,  although  Braid  meant  in  quite  a 
different  sense  from  that  implied  by  me.  You  may 
press  a  bump  on  the  head  of  a  fresh  subject,  and  press 
it  as  much  and  as  long  as  you  like,  and  nothing  particu¬ 
lar  will  result,  or  anything  might  follow.  And  the  rea¬ 
son  is,  the  subject  does  not  know  what  to  expect ;  he  has 
no  suspicion  of  what  the  experimenter  wants  him  to  do. 
Charcot  and  his  school  maintain  that  there  are  three 
states  of  what  they  name  “  le  grande  hypnotisme.” 
These  states  are  induced  physiologically. 

1.  The  lethargic  state  is  induced  by  fixation  upon 
an  object,  or  by  passing  lightly  upon  the  eyeball  through 
the  closed  eyelids.  In  this  stage  suggestion  is  impos¬ 
sible,  but  we  find  in  it  anaesthesia,  a  certain  muscular 
hyperexcitability  ;  any  muscle  excited  by  pressure  or 
light  friction  contracts ;  pressure  upon  the  ulnar  nerve 
provokes  the  ulnar  attitude ;  and  pressure  upon  the 
facial  nerve  is  followed  by  distortion  of  the  features  of 
the  corresponding  side  of  the  face. 

2.  A  subject  in  the  lethargic  condition  can  be  made 


*  Neurypnology. 


82 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  SUGGESTION. 


to  pass  into  the  second  or  cataleptic  state  by  raising  his 
eyelids.  If  one  eye  only  is  opened  the  corresponding 
side  of  the  body  alone  passes  into  the  cataleptic  condi¬ 
tion,  the  other  side  remaining  lethargic.  Suggestions 
can  be  induced  through  the  muscular  sense.  If  the 
subject’s  hand  is  put  into  a  condition  as  if  to  give  a 
kiss,  his  face  assumes  a  smiling  expression  ;  if  his  hands 
are  joined  as  in  prayer,  the  face  becomes  grave  and  the 
subject  kneels  down.  This  condition  of  catalepsy  can 
also  be  induced  at  once  without  having  the  subject  pass 
through  lethargy,  and  that  is  caused  by  some  nervous 
shock  produced  by  a  brilliant  point  or  a  violent  noise. 

3.  Lethargy  and  catalepsy  can  be  transformed  into 
somnambulism  by  light  or  repeated  friction  of  the  top 
of  the  subject’s  head.  Anaesthesia,  hyperacute  sensi¬ 
bility,  and  susceptibility  to  all  kinds  of  suggestion  char¬ 
acterize  this  state. 

Now  when  other  observers  came  to  verify  these 
three  states  they  invariably  failed  to  reproduce  them 
without  the  agency  of  suggestion.  ~W etterstrand  never 
found  them  at  all  among  3,589  different  persons.  “  I 
have  been  as  little  able,”  writes  Dr.  Moll,  “as  have 
many  others,  to  observe  the  stages  of  Charcot  in  my 
experiments.  I  have,  besides,  often  experimented  on 
several  hystero-epileptics,  but  have  failed  to  observe 
the  stages,  in  spite  of  Eichet’s  opinion  that  every  one 
who  experiments  on  such  persons  will  obtain  the  same 
results  as  the  school  of  Charcot  did.”  Bernheim  finds 
that  these  three  stages  can  not  be  induced  without  sug¬ 
gestion.  Continued  suggestion  alone  has  been  able  to 
produce  them.  Liebault,  who  hypnotized  more  than 
six  thousand  persons,  never  observed  anything  that 
should  go  to  confirm  the  hypnotic  stages  as  described 
by  Charcot.  “  I  have  never  been  able,”  writes  Bern- 


THE  LAW  OF  ABNORMAL  SUGGESTIBILITY.  83 

heim,*  44  to  determine  without  suggestion  any  phe¬ 
nomena  by  pressure  exercised  upon  certain  points  of 
the  cranium.  For  example,  here  is  one  of  my  som¬ 
nambulistic  cases.  I  press  upon  the  different  points  of 
the  cranium ;  no  result.  I  say,  4  Now  I  am  going  to 
touch  that  part  of  the  cranium  which  corresponds  to 
the  movement  of  the  left  arm,  and  this  arm  will  go 
into  convulsions.’  Having  said  this,  I  touch  an  arbi¬ 
trary  part  of  the  head;  immediately  the  left  arm  is 
convulsed.  I  state  that  I  am  going  to  induce  aphasia 
by  touching  the  region  corresponding  to  speech.  I 
touch  any  part  of  the  head,  and  the  subject  no  longer 
replies  to  my  questions.  Then  I  state  that  I  shall 
touch  the  head  in  such  a  way  that  irritation  of  the  cen¬ 
tres  of  speech  will  result.  The  person  then  answers  my 
questions  in  the  following  manner :  4  What  is  your 
name  ?  ’  4  Marie,  Marie,  Marie.’  4  How  are  you  ?  ’  4  Well, 
well,  well.’  4  You  have  no  pain  ?  ’  4  Hone  at  all,  none 

at  all,  none  at  all.’  ” 

I  myself  made  similar  experiments  on  my  subjects 
and  with  similar  results.  I  pressed  different  regions  of 
the  head  of  my  subject  and  nothing  resulted.  I  then 
said,  44 1  am  going  to  press  your  shoulder  and  you  will 
be  unable  to  speak.”  I  pressed  it,  and  he  could  not 
speak.  In  my  following  seances ,  whenever  I  pressed 
that  subject’s  shoulder  he  lost  the  power  of  speech. 

I  pressed  the  head  of  Mr.  W.  in  different  places 
and  no  result  followed.  I  then  said,  44 1  will  press  the 
centre  of  speech  and  you  will  be  unable  to  speak.”  I 
firmly  pressed  an  arbitrary  part  of  the  head,  and  the 
subject  was  unable  to  speak.  Without  suggestion,  by 
mere  physiological  means,  we  are  unable  to  induce  any 


*  Suggestive  Therapeutics. 


84 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  SUGGESTION. 


particular  changes  in  the  hypnotic  subject.  The  sub¬ 
ject  must  know  what  we  require  of  him. 

It  is  not  necessary  to  make  suggestions  to  each  sub¬ 
ject  separately.  If  a  hypnotizable  person  is  present  at 
a  seance ,  he  takes  the  hint  at  once,  and  when  he  is  hyp¬ 
notized  he  manifests  phenomena  similar  to  the  one  he 
has  witnessed.  He  knows  exactly  what  the  hypnotizer 
wants  of  him. 

“  Here  is  an  experiment,”  writes  Bemheim,*  “  which 
I  made  with  M.  Beaunis.  We  hypnotized  a  nurse  in 
our  service  who  was  susceptible  to  somnambulism. 
She  had  never  been  present  either  as  witness  or  as  sub¬ 
ject  of  the  kind  of  experiment  which  I  wanted  to  try 
on  her.  I  put  the  upper  left  limb  into  the  cataleptic 
condition  in  the  horizontal  position,  the  thumb  and  in¬ 
dex  fingers  stretched  out,  the  other  fingers  bent ;  the 
right  arm  remained  relaxed.  I  applied  the  magnet  to 
it  for  eight  minutes.  Hothing  occurred.  Then  turn¬ 
ing  to  M.  Beaunis,  I  said :  6  How  I  am  going  to  try  an 
experiment.  I  shall  apply  the  magnet  to  the  right 
hand  (on  the  unaffected  hand),  and  in  a  minute  you 
will  see  this  arm  lifted  and  take  the  exact  attitude  of 
the  left  one,  while  the  latter  relaxes  and  falls.’  I 
placed  the  magnet  just  where  it  was  at  first,  and  in  a 
minute  the  suggested  transfer  was  realized  with  perfect 
precision.  If,  then,  without  saying  anything  more,  I 
put  the  magnet  back  against  the  left  hand  at  the  end  of 
a  minute  the  transfer  occurred  in  inverse  order,  and  so 
on  consecutively.  Afterward  I  said,  6 1  shall  change 
the  direction  of  the  magnet,  and  the  transfer  will  take 
place  from  the  arm  to  the  leg.’  At  the  end'  of  a 
minute  the  arm  fell  and  the  leg  was  raised.  I  put  the 


*  Suggestive  Therapeutics. 


THE  LAW  OF  ABNORMAL  SUGGESTIBILITY.  85 


magnet  against  the  leg  without  saying  anything,  and  the 
transfer  took  place  from  the  leg  to  the  arm.  If,  with¬ 
out  saying  anything  to  the  subject,  I  replace  the  mag¬ 
net  by  a  knife,  a  pencil,  a  bottle,  a  piece  of  paper,  or 
use  anything  in  its  place,  the  same  phenomenon  occurs. 
The  next  day  I  repeated  these  experiments  on  another 
somnambulist  who  had  been  present  the  day  before, 
and  without  saying  anything  to  her,  or  to  any  of  the 
persons  present,  they  succeeded  marvellously  /  the  idea 
of  the  transfer  had  been  suggested  to  her  mind  by  the 
circumstances  of  which  she  had  been  a  witness” 

In  deep  hypnosis,  on  account  of  the  hypersesthesia 
of  the  subject’s  senses,  the  slightest  hint  suffices.  But 
here,  too,  the  subject  must  be  trained  by  previous  ex¬ 
periments  as  to  the  interpretation  of  the  hint.  In 
short,  we  may  fully  assert  that  in  hypnosis  the  subject 
must  know  what  the  hypnotizer  wants  of  him,  so  that 
the  more  precise,  exact,  and  frank  the  suggestion  is,  the 
surer  will  be  its  success.  We  may  put  it  down  as  a 
rule  for  practitioners  who  intend  to  use  hypnotism  for 
therapeutic  purposes,  In  giving  the  suggestion  to  the 
patient ,  make  your  language  plain,  precise,  and  direct 
to  the  point. 

The  following  cases  will  show  the  necessity  of  ob¬ 
serving  this  last  rule : 

Prof.  W.  James  gave  to  one  of  his  patients  a  post¬ 
hypnotic  suggestion  to  smoke  only  one  pipe  of  tobacco 
a  day.  When  the  patient  came  again  Prof.  James  asked 
him  how  many  pipes  he  smoked  a  day  ?  The  answer 
was,  “  One  only.”  On  being  hypnotized  the  patient 
confessed  that  he  bought  a  pipe  with  a  bowl  of  large 
dimensions,  and  that  it  was  this  one  pipe  he  was  smok¬ 
ing  the  whole  day. 

Mr.  F.  suffered  from  attacks  of  acute  headache. 


86 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  SUGGESTION. 


On  account  of  the  violent  pain  he  had  to  discontinue 
his  work.  He  came  to  me  to  be  cured  by  hypnotism. 
I  have  hypnotized  him  several  times  and  greatly  re¬ 
lieved  his  headache.  He  could  continue  his  occupation 
without  any  inconvenience.  At  the  eighth  sitting  he 
told  me  he  had  no  more  violent  attacks,  but  was  only 
suffering  from  occasional  slight  headaches.  I  suggested 
that  he  will  have  no  more  slight  headaches.  Next  day 
he  came  to  me  complaining  of  a  severe  attack. 

All  the  facts  discussed  in  this  chapter  prove  in  the 
clearest  way  the  truth  that  in  hypnosis,  in  the  state  of 
abnormal  suggestibility,  the  more  direct  a  suggestion  is 
the  greater  is  the  chance  of  its  being  realized,  the 
stronger  is  its  efficacy  ;  and  vice  versa ,  the  more  indi¬ 
rect  a  suggestion  is  the  less  is  the  chance  of  having  it 
realized,  the  less  is  its  efficacy.  The  law  of  abnormal 
suggestibility  may  be  stated  as  follows  : 

Abnormal  suggestibility  varies  as  direct  suggestion, 
and  inversely  as  indirect  suggestion . 


Plate  I  shows  the  influence  of  suggestion  in  the 
production  of  catalepsy.  The  subject  was  put  into 
a  state  of  hypnosis  and  a  sphygmographic  recorcl 
was  taken  of  him.  In  the  middle  of  the  record 
the  subject  was  thrown  into  a  cataleptic  state.  At 
once  the  record  changed ;  the  characteristic  pulse- 
wave  disappeared  and  was  replaced  either  by  a 
curve  full  of  fine  minute  vibrations  ( A  and  D),  or 
by  a  series  of  broken  lines  (B  and  E ) — traces  of 
the  pulse-wTaves — and  sometimes  by  one  rapidly  de¬ 
scending  straight  line  passing  over  into  a  series  of 
fine  minute  vibrations  as  the  suggestion  of  rigidity 
was  more  and  more  enforced  ((7).  Now,  at  the 
height  of  the  cataleptic  state  the  subject  was  sug¬ 
gested  that  he  was  “well”  again,  and  immediately 
the  characteristic  pulse-wave  appeared  once  more, 
and  very  often  in  a  better  condition,  the  ascending 
limb  on  the  upward  stroke  was  higher,  and  the 
secondary  or  dicrotic  wave  on  the  descending  limb 
became  more  emphasized  (A,  C  and  E). 

The  arrow  indicates  the  direction  in  which  the  record 
runs. 


i 


•  .  ;  .o'  :  I  ••  > 


. 

l^v;-  ni  g  m 

■ 

■ 

.  ■  ;:n  V-  '• 


. 


•••:  ■  '.-tier: la  frtuwqjf  91I ;  »  ;i;:. 

' 

.  • 


Mfi  If  t 


■>  ■ 


PLATE  I 


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UJ 


CD 


CHAPTER  IX. 


SUGGESTIBILITY  AND  THE  WAKING  CONSCIOUSNESS. 

It  is  now  high  time  to  gather  up  the  threads  of  our 
discussion  and  weave  them  into  one  organic,  living 
whole ;  to  bring  the  stray  rays  of  light  that  reached  us 
in  the  course  of  our  research  together  into  one  focus, 
and  illuminate  the  dark,  mysterious  regions  we  under¬ 
took  to  explore.  To  do  this  we  must  retrace  our  steps 
and  inspect  closer  the  conditions  that  admit  one  into 
that  strange  land  of  puzzles,  wonders,  and  prodigies. 
A  comparison  of  the  conditions  of  normal  and  ab¬ 
normal  suggestibility  will,  I  think,  prove  interesting 
and  valuable,  as  it  might  give  us  a  glimpse  deep  into 
the  nature  of  suggestibility  in  general. 

To  facilitate  this  comparison,  it  would  be  best  to 
make  a  table  in  which  the  conditions  of  normal  and  ab¬ 
normal  suggestibility  should  run  parallel  to  each  other. 

Table  of  Conditions  of  Normal  and  Abnormal 

Suggestibility. 

Normal  Suggestibility.  Abnormal  Suggestibility. 

1.  Fixation  of  attention.  1.  Fixation  of  attention. 

2.  Distraction.  2.  - 

3.  Monotony.  3.  Monotony. 

4.  Limitation  of  voluntary  4.  Limitation  of  voluntary 

movements.  movements. 

5.  Limitation  of  the  field  of  5.  Limitation  of  the  field  of 

consciousness.  consciousness. 

6.  Inhibition.  6.  Inhibition. 

7.  - 

87 


7.  Immediate  execution. 
7 


88 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  SUGGESTION. 


A  glance  at  our  last  table  will  show  at  once  that  the 
conditions  in  both  cases  are  essentially  the  same,  with 
the  only  difference  that  in  abnormal  suggestibility  two 
conditions  are  wanting — namely,  distraction  and  imme¬ 
diate  execution.  This  sameness  of  conditions  clearly 
indicates  that  both  normal  and  abnormal  suggestibility 
flow  from  some  one  common  source,  that  they  are  of 
like  nature,  and  that  they  are  due  to  similar  causes. 
Nowa  previous  study  led  us  to  the  conclusion  that  the 
nature  of  abnormal  suggestibility  is  a  disaggregation 
of  consciousness,  a  slit,  a  scar  produced  in  the  mind,  a 
crack  that  may  extend  wider  and  deeper,  ending  at  last 
in  a  total  disjunction  of  the  waking,  guiding,  control¬ 
ling  consciousness  from  the  reflex  consciousness,  from 
the  rest  of  the  stream  of  life.  Normal  suggestibility  is 
of  like  nature — it  is  a  cleft  in  the  mind ;  only  here  the 
cleft  is  not  so  deep,  not  so  lasting  as  it  is  in  hypnosis, 
or  in  the  state  of  abnormal  suggestibility ;  the  split  is 
here  but  momentary,  evanescent,  fleeting,  disappearing 
at  the  very  moment  of  its  appearance. 

This  fleeting,  evanescent  character  of  the  split  gives 
the  reason  why  suggestion  in  the  normal  state,  why 
normal  suggestibility  requires  immediate  execution  as 
one  of  its  most  indispensable  conditions.  We  must 
take  the  opportunity  of  the  momentary  ebb  of  the  con¬ 
trolling  consciousness  and  hastily  plant  our  suggestion 
in  the  soil  of  reflex  consciousness.  We  must  watch  for 
this  favourable  moment ;  not  let  it  slip  by,  otherwise 
the  suggestion  is  a  failure.  Furthermore,  we  must  be 
careful  to  keep  in  abeyance,  for  the  moment,  though, 
the  ever-active,  ever-restless  waves  of  the  controlling 
consciousness ;  we  must  find  for  them  work  in  some 
other  direction  ;  we  must  divert,  we  must  distract  them. 
That  is  why  normal  suggestibility  requires  the  addi- 


THE  WAKING  CONSCIOUSNESS. 


89 


tional  conditions  of  distraction  and  of  immediate  execu¬ 
tion.  For  in  the  normal  state  the  waking,  controlling 
consciousness  is  always  on  its  guard,  and  when  enticed, 
leaves  its  ground  only  a  single  step,  and  that  only  for 
but  a  moment.  In  normal  suggestibility  the  psychical 
scar  is  faint;  the  lesion  effected  in  the  body  of  con¬ 
sciousness  is  superficial,  transitory,  fleeting.  In  abnor¬ 
mal  suggestibility,  on  the  contrary,  the  slit  is  deep  and 
lasting — it  is  a  severe  gash.  In  both  cases,  however, 
we  have  a  removal,  a  dissociation  of  the  waking  from 
the  subwaking,  reflex  consciousness,  and  suggestion  be¬ 
ing  effected  only  through  the  latter.  It  is  the  subwak¬ 
ing,  the  reflex,  not  the  waking,  the  controlling,  conscious¬ 
ness  that  is  suggestible.  Suggestibility  is  the  attribute, 
the  very  essence  of  the  subwaking,  reflex  consciousness. 
That  our  suggestions  should  take  root  and  bring  forth 
fruit,  that  they  should  become  fully  realized,  we  must 
address  them  to  the  subwaking  consciousness  directly, 
and  in  order  to  do  that  a  disaggregation  of  conscious¬ 
ness  must  be  effected. 

If  we  turn  to  the  laws  of  normal  and  abnormal  sug¬ 
gestibility,  we  find  still  further  evidence  in  support  of 
our  view  as  to  the  nature  of  suggestibility  and  its  rela¬ 
tion  to  the  subwaking,  reflex  consciousness.  A  mere 
comparison  of  the  two  laws  reveals  the  truth  of  our 
position : 

The  Law  of  Abnormal  The  Law  of  Normal 

Suggestibility.  Suggestibility. 

Abnormal  suggestibility  varies  Normal  suggestibility  varies  as 
as  direct  suggestion,  and  in-  indirect  suggestion,  and  in¬ 
versely  as  indirect  sugges-  versely  as  direct  suggestion, 
tion. 

The  two  laws  are  the  reverse  of  each  other,  thus 
clearly  indicating  the  presence  of  a  controlling,  inhib- 


90 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  SUGGESTION". 


itory  conscious  element  in  the  one  case,  and  its  absence 
in  the  other.  In  the  normal  state  we  must  guard 
against  the  inhibitory  waking  consciousness,  and  we 
must  therefore  make  our  suggestion  as  indirect  as  pos¬ 
sible.  In  the  abnormal  state,  on  the  contrary,  no  cir¬ 
cumspection  is  needed ;  the  controlling,  inhibitory  wak¬ 
ing  consciousness  is  more  or  less  absent,  the  sub  waking 
reflex  consciousness  is  exposed  to  external  stimuli,  and 
our  suggestions,  therefore,  are  the  more  effective  the 
more  direct  we  make  them.  With  full  right  may  we 
now  assert  that  suggestibility  is  a  disaggregation  of 
consciousness — a  disaggregation  in  which  the  subwak¬ 
ing,  reflex  consciousness  enters  into  direct  communica¬ 
tion  with  the  external  world. 

The  general  law  of  suggestibility  is  now  plainly 
obvious : 

Suggestibility  varies  as  the  amount  of  disag¬ 
gregation,  AND  INVERSELY  AS  THE  UNIFICATION  OF 
CONSCIOUSNESS.* 


*  See  Appendix  B. 


PART  IL 


THE  SELF. 


CHAPTER  X. 

THE  SECONDARY  SELF. 

The  law  of  suggestibility  in  general,  and  those  of 
normal  and  abnormal  suggestibility  in  particular,  indi¬ 
cate  a  coexistence  of  two  streams  of  consciousness,  of 
two  selves  within  the  frame  of  the  individual ;  the  one, 
the  waking  consciousness,  the  waking  self ;  the  other, 
the  subwaking  consciousness,  the  subwaking  self.  But 
although  the  conditions  and  laws  of  suggestibility  clearly 
point  to  a  double  self  as  constituting  human  individu¬ 
ality,  still  the  proof,  strong  as  it  appears  to  me  to  be, 
is  rather  of  an  indirect  nature.  We  must  therefore 
look  for  facts  that  should  directly  and  explicit] y  prove 
the  same  truth.  We  do  not  lack  such  facts.  We  turn 
first  to  those  of  hysteria. 

If  we  put  a  pencil  or  scissors  into  the  anaesthetic 
hand  of  the  hysterical  person  without  his  seeing  it,  the 
insensible  hand  makes  adaptive  movements.  The  fin¬ 
gers  seize  the  pencil  and  place  it  in  a  position  as  if  the 
hand  were  going  to  write.  Quite  differently  does  the 
hand  possess  itself  of  the  scissors :  the  hand  gets  hold 
of  the  instrument  in  the  proper  way,  and  seems  ready 

for  work,  for  cutting.  How  all  the  while  the  subject 

91 


92 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  SUGGESTION. 


is  totally  unconscious  of  what  is  happening  there  to  his 
hand,  since  it  is  insensible,  and  he  can  not  possibly  see 
it,  as  his  face  is  concealed  by  a  screen.  It  is  obvious 
that  in  order  for  such  movements  of  adaptation  to  occur 
that  there  must  be  recognition  of  the  object  kept  by  the 
anaesthetic  hand.  But  recognition  requires  a  complex 
mental  operation :  it  requires  that  the  object  should  be 
perceived,  should  be  remembered,  and  should  be  classed 
with  objects  of  a  certain  kind  and  order.  The  very  fact 
of  the  adaptation  movements  indicate  the  presence  of 
some  kind  of  embryonic  will.  Simple  as  these  experi¬ 
ments  are,  they  none  the  less  strongly  indicate  the  pres¬ 
ence  of  a  hidden  agency  that  works  through  the  an¬ 
aesthetic  hand ;  an  agency  that  possesses  perception, 
memory,  judgment,  and  even  will.  Since  these  last 
operations  are  essentially  characteristics  of  conscious¬ 
ness,  of  a  self,  we  must  necessarily  conclude  that  it  is  a 
conscious  agency  that  acts  through  the  insensible  hand 
of  the  hysterical  person.  Since  the  activity  of  this  in¬ 
telligence,  simple  and  elementary  as  it  is,  is  unknown  to 
the  subject,  it  is  quite  clear  that  there  is  present  within 
him  a  secondary  consciousness  standing  in  no  connec¬ 
tion  with  the  primary  stream  of  personal  consciousness, 
and  somehow  coming  in  possession  of  the  person’s 
hand. 

As  we  advance  in  our  research  and  make  the  condi¬ 
tions  more  and  more  complicated,  all  doubt  as  to  the 
presence  of  a  conscious  being,  behind  the  veil  of  the 
subject’s  primary  consciousness,  completely  disappears. 
“We  put  a  pen,”  says  Binet,*  “into  the  anaesthetic 
hand  and  we  make  it  write  a  word ;  left  to  itself,  the 


*  Binet,  On  Double  Consciousness.  Vide  Binet,  Sur  les  alterna¬ 
tions  de  la  Conscience,  Revue  Philosophique,  v,  27,  1884. 


THE  SECONDARY  SELF. 


93 


hand  preserves  its  attitude,  and  at  the  expiration  of  a 
short  space  of  time  repeats  the  words  often  five  or  ten 
times.  Having  arrived  at  this  fact,  we  again  seize  the 
anaesthetic  hand  and  cause  it  to  write  some  familiar 
word — for  example,  the  patient’s  own  name — but  in  so 
doing  we  intentionally  commit  an  error  in  spelling. 
In  its  turn  the  anaesthetic  hand  repeats  the  word,  but, 
oddly  enough,  the  hand  betrays  a  momentary  hesitation 
when  it  reaches  the  letter  at  which  the  error  in  orthog¬ 
raphy  was  committed.  If  a  superfluous  letter  happens 
to  have  been  added,  sometimes  the  hand  will  hesitat¬ 
ingly  rewrite  the  name  along  with  the  supplementary 
letter ;  again,  it  will  retrace  only  a  part  of  the  letter  in 
question ;  and  again,  finally,  entirely  suppress  it.”  It 
is  quite  evident  that  we  have  here  to  deal  with  a  con¬ 
scious  agent  hesitating  about  mistakes  and  able  to  cor¬ 
rect  them ;  we  can  not  possibly  ascribe  such  activity  to 
mere  unconscious  cerebration. 

If  again  we  take  the  anaesthetic  hand  and  trace  on 
the  dorsal  side  of  it  a  letter  or  a  figure,  the  hand  traces 
this  figure  or  letter.  Evidently  the  secondary  con¬ 
sciousness  is  in  full  possession  of  these  perceptions, 
although  the  primary  consciousness  of  the  subject  is 
totally  ignorant  of  them. 

Furthermore,  insensible  as  the  anaesthetic  hand  is, 
since  no  pinching,  pricking,  burning,  or  faradization  of 
it  are  perceived  by  the  subject,  still  we  can  show  that 
there  exists  a  hidden  sensibility  in  the  hand ;  this  can 
easily  be  proved  by  the  aesthesiometer.  If  we  prick 
the  insensible  hand  with  one  of  the  points  of  a  pair  of 
compasses,  the  hand  automatically  traces  a  single  point. 
Apply  both  points,  and  the  automatic  writing  will  trace 
two  points,  thus  informing  us  of  its  degree  of  insensi¬ 
bility. 


94 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  SUGGESTION. 


The  amaurotic  or  hysterical  eye  gives  us  still 
stronger  evidence  of  the  existence  of  a  secondary 
being  perceiving  things  which  lie  outside  the  visual 
distance  of  the  subject’s  waking  consciousness.  Hys¬ 
terical  subjects  often  complain  of  the  loss  of  sight.  As 
a  matter  of  fact,  when  we  come  to  test  it  we  find  that 
the  subject  does  see  what  he  claims  not  to  see.  This  is 
detected  by  the  so-called  “  box  of  Flees.”  This  box  is 
so  skilfully  arranged  that  the  patient  sees  with  his 
right  eye  the  picture  or  the  figure  situated  to  the  left, 
and  with  his  left  eye  what  is  situated  to  the  right. 
The  hysterical  person  blind  in  the  right  eye,  when  put 
to  such  a  test,  declares  that  he  sees  the  picture  to  the 
left  side  but  not  that  to  the  right.  He  sees  with  the 
blind  eye. 

Amaurosis  may  also  be  tested  in  a  somewhat  differ¬ 
ent  way.  A  pair  of  spectacles  in  which  one  glass  is 
red  and  the  other  green  is  put  on  the  patient’s  eye, 
and  he  is  made  to  read  six  letters  on  a  blank  frame, 
alternately  covered  with  red  and  green  glass.  When 
one  eye  is  closed  only  three  letters  can  be  seen  through 
the  spectacles — namely,  the  ones  corresponding  in  color 
to  the  spectacle  glass  through  which  the  eye  is  looking ; 
the  other  three  can  not  be  seen  on  account  of  the  two 
complementary  colors  forming  black.  The  patient, 
then,  blind  in  one  eye  (say  the  right),  ought  to  see  only 
three  letters  when  he  has  the  spectacles  on.  When, 
however,  put  to  this  test  the  patient  promptly  reads 
the  six  letters.  The  right  eye  undoubtedly  sees,  only 
the  image  is  retained  by  the  secondary  self,  and  a  spe¬ 
cial  arrangement  of  conditions  is  required  to  force  that 
hidden  self  to  surrender  the  image  it  stole. 

To  reveal  the  presence  of  this  secondary  self  that 
perceives  and  knows  facts  hidden  from  the  upper  con- 


THE  SECONDARY  SELF. 


95 


sciousness  or  primary  self,  I  frequently  employ  tlie  fol¬ 
lowing  simple  but  sure  method,  which  may  be  charac¬ 
terized  as  the  method  of  “  guessing  ”  : 

Impressions  are  made  on  the  anaesthetic  limb,  and 
the  subject  who  does  not  perceive  any  of  the  applied 
stimuli  is  asked  just  to  make  a  “  wild  guess  ”  as  to  the 
nature  and  number  of  the  stimuli,  if  there  were  any. 
Now  the  interest  is  that  nearly  all  the  guesses  are  found 
to  be  correct.  Dr.  William  A.  White,  of  Binghamton 
State  Hospital,  finds  that  this  method  works  well  in  his 
cases.  “In  the  case  of  D.  F.,”  Dr.  White  writes  to 
me,  “  whose  field  of  vision  I  sent  you,  I  find  by  experi¬ 
ment,  taking  a  hint  from  you,  that,  by  introducing 
fingers  between  the  limit  of  her  field  of  vision  (which 
is  very  contracted)  and  the  limit  of  the  normal  field, 
she  could  guess  each  time  and  tell  which  finger  was 
held  up.” 

To  bring  out  still  more  clearly  and  decisively  the 
presence  of  a  secondary  consciousness  that  perceives 
the  image  which  the  hysterical  person  does  not  see, 
A.  Binet  performed  the  following  experiment:  “We 
place,”  he  says,*  “  the  hysterical  subject  before  a  scale 
of  printed  letters,  and  tentatively  seek  the  maximum 
distance  from  the  board  at  which  the  subject  is  able  to 
read  the  largest  letters.  After  having  experimentally 
determined  the  maximum  distance  at  which  the  subject 
can  read  the  largest  letters  of  the  series,  we  invite  him 
to  read  certain  small  letters  that  are  placed  below  the 
former.  Naturally  enough,  the  subject  is  unable  to  do 
so ;  but  if  at  this  instant  we  slip  a  pencil  into  the  anaes¬ 
thetic  hand,  we  are  able  by  the  agency  of  the  hand  to 
induce  automatic  writing,  and  this  writing  will  repro- 


*  Binet,  On  Double  Consciousness ;  also,  Revue  Philosophique,  y,  27. 


96 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  SUGGESTION. 


duce  precisely  the  letters  which  the  subject  is  in  vain 
trying  to  read.  It  is  highly  interesting  to  observe  that 
during  the  very  time  the  subject  is  repeatedly  declaring 
that  he  does  not  see  the  letters,  the  anaesthetic  hand, 
unknown  to  him,  writes  out  the  letters  one  after  an¬ 
other.  If,  interrupting  the  experiments,  we  ask  the 
subject  to  write  of  his  own  free  will  the  letters  of  the 
printed  series,  he  will  not  he  able  to  do  so ;  and  when 
asked  simply  to  draw  what  he  sees,  he  will  only  pro¬ 
duce  a  few  zigzag  marks  that  have  no  meaning.” 
These  experiments  plainly  prove  that  the  secondary 
consciousness  sees  the  letters  or  words,  and  directs  the 
anaesthetic  hand  it  possesses  to  write  what  it  perceives. 

Furthermore,  if  we  remove  the  subject  at  too  great 
a  distance,  so  that  the  letters  are  altogether  out  of  the 
range  of  vision  of  the  secondary  consciousness,  the 
automatic  writing  begins  to  make  errors — writing,  for 
instance,  44  Lucien  ”  instead  of  44  Louise  ”  ;  it  tries  to 
guess.  How  if  anything  plainly  shows  the  presence  of 
a  hidden  intelligence,  it  is  surely  this  guessing  of  which 
the  subject  himself  is  totally  unconscious,  for  guess¬ 
ing  is  essentially  a  characteristic  of  consciousness.  44  An 
automaton,”  truly  remarks  Binet,  “  does  not  mistake ; 
the  secondary  consciousness,  on  the  contrary,  is  subject 
to  errors  because  it  is  a  consciousness,  because  it  is  a 
thing  that  reasons  and  combines  thoughts.”  This  last 
conclusion  is  still  further  proved  by  the  following 
experiments:  44  There  are  patients,”  writes  Binet* 
44  (St.  Am.,  for  example),  whose  hand  spontaneously 
finishes  the  word  they  are  made  to  trace.  Thus  I  cause 
the  letter  4  d  ’  to  be  written ;  the  hand  continues  and 
writes  4  don.’  I  write  4  pa,’  and  the  hand  continues  and 


*  Binet,  On  Double  Consciousness ;  also,  .Revue  Philosophique,  y,  27. 


THE  SECONDARY  SELF. 


97 


writes  6  pavilion.’  I  write  ‘  Sal,’  and  the  hand  writes 
‘  Salpetriere.’  Here  it  is  still  more  obvious  that  we 
are  in  the  presence  of  a  hidden  agency  that  can  take 
hints  and  develop  them  intelligently. 

We  saw  above  that  distraction  of  attention  is  one 
of  the  indispensable  conditions  of  suggestibility  in  the 
normal  waking  state.  How,  M.  Janet,  in  his  experi¬ 
ments  on  hysterical  persons,  used  chiefly  this  condition, 
or  (as  it  may  be  called)  “method  of  distraction,”  as  a 
means  for  coming  into  direct  oral  communication  with 
the  secondary  suggestible  self.  In  hysterical  persons 
it  is  easier  to  bring  about  the  conditions  of  suggesti¬ 
bility,  because,  as  a  rule,  they  possess  a  contracted  field 
of  consciousness,  and  when  engaged  in  one  thing  they 
are  oblivious  to  all  else.  “When  Lucie  [the  subject] 
talked  directly  with  any  one,”  says  M.  Janet,*  “  she 
ceased  to  be  able  to  hear  any  other  person.  You  may 
stand  behind  her,  call  her  by  name,  shout  abuse  in  her 
ear,  without  making  her  turn  round ;  or  place  yourself 
before  her,  show  her  objects,  touch  her,  etc.,  without 
attracting  her  notice.  When  finally  she  becomes 
aware  of  you  she  thinks  you  have  just  come  into  the 
room  again,  and  greets  you  accordingly.”  M.  Janet 
availed  himself  of  these  already  existent  conditions  of 
suggestibility,  and  began  to  give  her  suggestions  while 
she  was  in  the  waking  state.  When  the  subject’s  at¬ 
tention  was  fully  fixed  on  a  conversation  with  a  third 
party  M.  Janet  came  up  behind  her,  whispered  in  her 
ear  some  simple  commands,  which  she  instantly  obeyed. 
He  made  her  reply  by  signs  to  his  questions,  and  even 
made  her  answer  in  writing  if  a  pencil  were  placed  in 
her  hands.  The  subject’s  primary  consciousness  was 


*  Pierre  Janet,  L’Automatisrae  Psychologique. 


98 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OP  SUGGESTION. 


entirely  ignorant  of  what  was  going  on.  In  some 
cases  the  patient  was  made  to  pass  through  a  series  of 
awkward  bodily  positions  without  the  least  spark  of 
knowledge  on  his  side.  The  following  is  a  very  inter¬ 
esting  and  striking  case : 

P.,  a  man  of  forty,  was  received  at  the  hospital 
at  Havre  for  delirium  tremens.  He  improved  and 
became  quite  rational  during  the  daytime.  The  hos¬ 
pital  doctor  observed  that  the  patient  was  highly  sug¬ 
gestible,  and  invited  M.  Janet  to  experiment  on  him. 
“  While  the  doctor  was  talking  to  the  patient  on  some 
interesting  subject,”  writes  M.  Janet,*  “  I  placed  my¬ 
self  behind  P.,  and  told  him  to  raise  his  arm.  On 
the  first  trial  I  had  to  touch  his  arm  in  order  to  pro¬ 
voke  the  desired  act ;  afterward  his  unconscious  obedi¬ 
ence  followed  my  order  without  difficulty.  I  made 
him  walk,  sit  down,  kneel — all  without  his  knowing  it. 
I  even  told  him  to  lie  down  on  his  stomach,  and  he 
fell  down  at  once,  but  his  head  still  raised  itself  to 
answer  at  once  the  doctor’s  questions.  The  doctor 
asked  him,  ‘In  what  position  are  you  while  I  am 
talking  to  you  ?  ’  4  Why,  I  am  standing  by  my  bed ; 

I  am  not  moving.’  ”  The  secondary  self  accepted 
motor  suggestions  of  which  the  primary  self  was  totally 
unaware. 

As  the  orders  thus  whispered  to  the  secondary^ 
subwaking  self  become  more  complicated  the  latter 
rises  to  the  surface,  pushes  the  waking  self  into  the 
background  and  carries  out  the  suggested  commands. 
“M.  Binet  had  been  kind  enough,”  writes  M.  Janet,”  f 
“  to  show  me  one  of  the  subjects  on  whom  he  was  in 
the  habit  of  studying  acts  rendered  unconscious  by 


*  Pierre  Janet,  L’Automatisme  Psychologique.  f  Ibid. 


THE  SECONDARY  SELF. 


99 


anaesthesia,  and  I  had  asked  his  permission  to  pro¬ 
duce  on  this  subject  the  phenomenon  of  suggestion  by 
distraction.  Everything  took  place  just  as  I  expected. 
The  subject  (Hab.),  fully  awake,  talked  to  M.  Binet. 
Placing  myself  behind  her,  I  caused  her  to  move  her 
hand  unconsciously,  to  write  a  few  words,  to  answer 
my  questions  by  signs,  etc.  Suddenly  Hab.  ceased  to 
speak  to  M.  Binet,  and,  turning  toward  me,  continued 
correctly  by  the  voice  the  conversation  she  had  begun 
with  me  by  unconscious  signs.  On  the  other  hand,  she 
no  longer  spoke  to  M.  Binet,  and  could  no  longer  hear 
him  speak ;  in  a  word,  she  had  fallen  into  elective  som¬ 
nambulism  (rapport).  It  was  necessary  to  wake  her 
up,  and  when  awakened  she  had  naturally  forgotten 
everything.  How  Hab.  had  no  previous  knowledge  of 
me  at  all ;  it  was  not,  therefore,  my  presence  which 
had  sent  her  to  sleep.  The  sleep  was  in  this  case 
manifestly  the  result  of  the  development  of  unconscious 
actions ,  which  had  invaded  and  finally  effaced  the  nor¬ 
mal  consciousness.  This  explanation,  indeed,  is  easily 

verified.  My  subject,  Madame.  B - ,  remains  wide 

awake  in  my  neighbourhood  so  long  as  I  do  not  pro¬ 
voke  unconscious  phenomena,  but  when  the  unconscious 
phenomena  become  too  numerous  and  too  complicated 
she  goes  to  sleep.”  We  have  here  clear  and  direct 
proof  as  to  the  presence  of  a  conscious  agency  lying 
buried  below  the  upper  stratum  of  personal  life,  and 
also  as  to  the  identity  of  this  hidden,  mysterious  self 
with  the  hypnotic  self.  The  self  of  normal  and  that 
of  abnormal  suggestibility  are  one  and  the  same.. 

Turning  now  to  hypnosis,  we  find  that  the  classical 
experiments  of  P.  Janet  and  Grourney  on  deferred  or 
post-hypnotic  suggestion  furnish  clear,  valid,  and  direct 
evidence  of  the  reality  of  a  secondary  consciousness,  of 


100 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  SUGGESTION. 


an  intelligent,  subwaking,  hypnotic  self  concealed  be¬ 
hind  the  curtain  of  personal  consciousness. 

“  When  Lucie  was  in  a  state  of  genuine  somnam¬ 
bulism,”  writes  P.  J anet,  “  I  said  to  her,  in  the  tone 
used  for  giving  suggestions,  ‘When  I  clap  my  hand 
twelve  times  you  will  go  to  sleep  again.’  Then  I 
talked  to  her  of  other  things,  and  five  or  six  minutes 
later  I  woke  her  completely.  The  forgetfulness  of  all 
that  had  happened  during  the  hypnotic  state,  and  of 
my  suggestion  in  particular,  was  complete.  I  was 
assured  of  this  forgetfulness,  which  was  an  important 
thing  here,  first,  by  the  preceding  state  of  sleep,  which 
was  genuine  somnambulism  with  all  its  characteristic 
symptoms;  by  the  agreement  of  all  those  who  have 
been  engaged  upon  these  questions,  and  who  have  all 
proved  the  forgetfulness  of  similar  suggestions  after 
waking ;  and,  finally,  by  the  results  of  all  the  preced¬ 
ing  experiments  made  upon  this  subject,  in  which  I 
have  always  found  this  unconsciousness.  Other  people 
surrounded  Lucie  and  talked  to  her  about  different 
things;  and  then,  drawing  back  a  few  steps,  I  struck 
my  hand  five  blows  at  rather  long  intervals  and  rather 
faintly,  noticing  at  the  same  time  that  the  subject  paid 
no  attention  to  me,  but  still  talked  on  briskly.  I  came 
nearer  and  said  to  her,  ‘Did  you  hear  what  I  just 
did  ?  ’  ‘  What  did  you  do  ?  ’  said  she,  ‘  I  was  not  pay¬ 

ing  attention.’  ‘This’  (I  clapped  my  hands).  ‘You 
just  clapped  your  hands.’  ‘  How  many  times  ?  ’ 
‘Once.’  I  drew  back  and  continued  to  clap  more 
faintly  every  now  and  then.  Lucie,  whose  attention 
was  distracted,  no  longer  listened  to  me,  and  seemed 
to  have  completely  forgotten  my  existence.  When  I 
had  clapped  six  times  more  in  this  way,  which  with 
the  preceding  ones  made  twelve,  Lucie  stopped  talk- 


THE  SECONDARY  SELF. 


101 


ing  immediately,  closed  her  eyes,  and  fell  back  asleep. 
4  Why  do  you  go  to  sleep  ?  ’  I  said  to  her.  4 1  do  not 
know  anything  about  it ;  it  came  upon  me  all  at  once,’ 
she  said. 

44  The  somnambulist  must  have  counted,  for  I  en¬ 
deavoured  to  make  the  blows  just  alike,  and  the  twelfth 
could  not  be  distinguished  from  the  preceding  ones. 
She  must  have  heard  them  and  counted  them,  but 
without  knowing  it ;  therefore,  unconsciously  (sub¬ 
consciously).  The  experiment  was  easy  to  repeat,  and 
I  repeated  it  in  many  ways.  In  this  way  Lucie 
counted  unconsciously  (subconsciously)  up  to  forty- 
three,  the  blows  being  sometimes  regular  and  some¬ 
times  irregular,  with  never  a  mistake  in  the  result. 
The  most  striking  of  these  experiments  was  this :  I 
gave  the  order,  4  At  the  third  blow  you  will  raise  your 
hands,  at  the  fifth  you  will  lower  them,  at  the  sixth 
you  will  look  foolish,  at  the  ninth  you  will  walk  about 
the  room,  and  at  the  sixteenth  you  will  go  to  sleep  in 
an  easy-chair.’  She  remembered  nothing  at  all  of  this 
on  waking,  but  all  these  actions  were  performed  in  the 
order  desired,  although  during  the  whole  time  Lucie 
replied  to  questions  that  were  put  to  her,  and  was  not 
aware  that  she  counted  the  noises,  that  she  looked 
foolish,  or  that  she  walked  about. 

44  After  repeating  the  experiment  I  cast  about  for 
some  means  of  varying  it,  in  order  to  obtain  very  sim¬ 
ple  unconscious  judgments.  The  experiment  was  al¬ 
ways  arranged  in  the  same  way.  Suggestions  were 
made  during  a  well-established  hypnotic  sleep,  then 
the  subject  was  thoroughly  wakened,  and  the  signals 
and  the  actions  took  place  in  the  waking  state. 
4  When  I  repeat  the  same  letter  in  succession  you 
will  become  rigid.’  After  she  awoke  I  whispered  the 


102 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  SUGGESTION. 


letters,  ‘a,’  ‘ c,’  ‘d,’  ‘e,’  ‘a,’  ‘a.’  Lucie  became  mo¬ 
tionless  and  perfectly  rigid.  That  shows  an  uncon¬ 
scious  judgment  of  resemblance.  I  may  also  cite  some 
examples  of  judgments  of  difference :  ‘You  will  go  to 
sleep  when  I  pronounce  an  uneven  number,’  or  ‘Your 
hands  will  revolve  around  each  other  when  I  pronounce 
a  woman’s  name.’  The  result  is  the  same ;  as  long  as 
I  whisper  even  numbers  or  names  of  men  nothing  hap¬ 
pens,  but  the  suggestion  is  carried  out  when  I  give  the 
proper  signal.  Lucie  has  therefore  listened  uncon¬ 
sciously  (subconsciously),  compared,  and  appreciated 
the  differences. 

“  I  next  tried  to  complicate  the  experiment  in  order 
to  see  to  what  lengths  this  faculty  of  an  unconscious 
(subconscious)  judgment  would  go.  ‘When  the  sum 
of  the  number  which  I  shall  pronounce  amounts  to  ten 
you  will  throw  kisses.’  The  same  precautions  were 
taken.  She  was  awakened,  forgetfulness  established, 
and  while  she  was  chatting  with  other  people  who  dis¬ 
turbed  her  as  much  as  possible,  I  whispered,  at  quite  a 
distance  from  her,  ‘Two,  three,  one,  four,’  and  she 
made  the  movement.  Then  I  tried  more  complicated 
numbers  and  other  operations.  ‘When  the  numbers 
that  I  shall  pronounce  two  by  two,  subtracted  from  one 
another,  leave  six,  you  will  make  a  certain  gesture  ’ — or 
multiplication,  and  even  very  simple  divisions.  The 
whole  thing  was  carried  out  with  almost  no  errors,  ex¬ 
cept  when  the  calculation  became  too  complicated  and 
could  not  be  done  in  her  head.  There  was  no  new 
faculty  there,  only  the  usual  processes  were  operating 
unconsciously  (subconsciously). 

“  It  seems  to  me  that  these  experiments  are  quite 
directly  connected  with  the  problem  of  the  intelligent 
performance  of  suggestion  that  appears  to  be  forgotten. 


THE  SECONDARY  SELF. 


103 


The  facts  mentioned  are  perfectly  accurate.  Som¬ 
nambulists  are  able  to  count  the  days  and  hours  that 
intervene  between  the  present  time  and  the  perform¬ 
ance  of  a  suggestion,  although  they  have  no  memory 
whatever  of  the  suggestion  itself.  Outside  of  their 
consciousness  there  is  a  memory  that  persists,  an  atten¬ 
tion  always  on  the  alert,  and  a  judgment  perfectly  capable 
of  counting  the  days,  as  is  shown  by  its  being  able  to 
make  these  multiplications  and  divisions.” 

The  experiments  of  E.  Goumey  confirm  the  same 
truth — that  behind  the  primary  upper  consciousness  a 
secondary  lower  consciousness  is  present. 

“  P - 11,”  writes  E.  Goumey,  “  was  told  on  March 

26th  that  on  the  one  hundred  and  twenty-third  day 
from  then  he  was  to  put  a  blank  sheet  of  paper  in  an 
envelope  and  send  it  to  a  friend  of  mine  whose  name 
and  residence  he  knew,  but  whom  he  had  never  seen. 
The  subject  was  not  referred  to  again  till  April  18th, 
when  he  was  hypnotized  and  asked  if  he  remembered 
anything  in  connection  with  this  gentleman.  He  at 
once  repeated  the  order,  and  said,  ‘  This  is  the  twenty- 
third  day — a  hundred  more.’ 

“  S.  (i hypnotizer ).  How  do  you  know  ?  Have  you 
noted  each  day  ? 

“ P - ll.  Ho;  it  seemed  natural. 

“  S.  Have  you  thought  of  it  often  ? 

“P - ll.  It  generally  strikes  me  early  in  the 

morning.  Something  tells  me,  ‘You  have  got  to 

count.’ 

“  S.  Does  that  happen  every  day  ? 

“  P - ll.  Ho,  not  every  day — perhaps  more  likely 

every  other  day.  It  goes  from  my  mind.  I  never 
think  of  it  during  the  day.  I  only  know  it  has  to  be 
done. 


8 


104 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  SUGGESTION. 


“  He  was  questioned  again  on  April  20th,  and  at  once 
said,  ‘  That  is  going  on  all  right — twenty-five  days  ’ ; 
and  on  April  22d,  when  in  the  trance,  he  spontane¬ 
ously  recalled  the  subject  and  added  ‘  Twenty-seven 
days.’  After  he  was  awakened  (April  18th),  I  asked 
him  if  he  knew  the  gentleman  in  question  or  had  been 
thinking  about  him.  He  was  clearly  surprised  at  the 
question.”  The  hypnotic  self  knew  he  had  to  do  some¬ 
thing,  knew  the  particular  act  and  the  precise  day  when 
he  had  to  perform  it ;  watched  the  flow  of  time,  counted 
the  days  and  all  that  was  going  on,  without  the  least  in¬ 
timation  to  the  consciousness  of  the  waking  personal  self. 

E.  Gourney  then  conceived  the  happy  idea  of 
further  tapping  the  intelligence  and  knowledge  of  this 
sub  waking  hypnotic  self  by  means  of  automatic  writ¬ 
ing. 

“I  showed  P - 11,”  says  E.  Gourney,*  “a  plan- 

chette — he  had  never  seen  or  touched  one  before — and 
got  him  to  write  his  name  with  it.  He  was  then  hyp¬ 
notized,  and  told  that  it  had  been  as  dark  as  night  in 
London  on  the  previous  day,  and  that  he  would  be 
able  to  write  what  he  had  heard.  He  was  awakened, 
and  as  usual  was  offered  a  sovereign  to  say  what  it  was 
he  had  been  told,  and  as  usual  without  impunity  to  my 
purse.  He  was  then  placed  with  his  hand  on  the  plan- 
chette,  a  large  screen  being  held  in  the  front  of  his  face, 
so  that  it  was  impossible  for  him  to  see  the  paper  or 
instrument.  In  less  than  a  minute  the  writing  began. 
The  words  were,  4  It  was  a  dark  day  in  London.” 

“  When  asked  what  he  had  written,  he  did  not  know. 
He  was  given  a  post-hypnotic  suggestion  to  poke  the 
fire  in  six  minutes,  and  that  he  should  inform  us  how 


*  E.  Gourney.  Post-hypnotic  States,  Pr.  S.  P.  R.,  April,  1887. 


THE  SECONDARY  SELF. 


105 


the  time  was  going,  without  any  direction  as  to  writing. 

He  wrote  soon  after  waking,  4  P - 11,  will  you  poke 

the  fire  in  six  minutes  ?  5  ” 

To  prove  decisively  the  intelligence  of  the  second¬ 
ary,  subwaking,  hypnotic  self,  Gourney  gave  the  en¬ 
tranced  subject  arithmetical  problems  to  solve,  and 
immediately  had  him  awakened.  When  put  to  the 
planchette  the  subject  gave  the  solution  of  the  problem, 
without  being  conscious  as  to  what  he  was  doing.  It 
was  the  hypnotic  self  who  made  the  calculation,  who 
solved  the  arithmetical  problem. 

W - s  was  told  to  add  together  5,  6,  8,  9,  and  had 

just  time  to  say  44  5,”  when  he  was  awakened  in  the 
fraction  of  a  second  with  the  words  on  his  lips.  The 
planchette  immediately  produced  44  28.” 

P - 11  was  told  during  trance  to  add  all  the  digits 

from  1  to  9 ;  the  first  result  was  39,  the  second  45 
(right).  Pehypnotized,  and  asked  by  S.  what  he  had 
been  writing,  he  said,  44  You  told  me  to  add  the  figures 
from  1  to  9  =  45.”  44 Did  you  write  it?”  44 Yes,  I 

wrote  it  down.” 

W - s  was  hypnotized  and  told  that  in  six  minutes 

he  was  to  blow  a  candle  out,  and  that  he  would  be  re¬ 
quired  at  the  same  time  before  this  to  write  the  num¬ 
ber  of  minutes  that  had  passed  and  the  number  that 
had  still  to  elapse.  He  was  awakened,  laughed  and 
talked  as  usual,  and,  of  course,  knew  nothing  of  the 
order.  In  about  three  and  a  half  minutes  (he  was 
taken  by  surprise,  so  to  say)  he  was  set  down  to  the 
planchette,  which  wrote, 44  Four  and  a  half — one  more.” 

About  a  minute  passed,  and  W - s  was  reliypnotized, 

but  just  as  his  eyes  were  beginning  to  close,  he  raised 
himself  and  blew  out  the  candle,  saying, 44  It  is  beginning 
to  smell.”  Hypnotized  and  questioned,  he  remembered 


106 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  SUGGESTION. 


all  that  lie  had  done ;  and  when  it  was  pointed  out  to 
him  that  four  and  a  half  and  one  do  not  make  six,  he 
explained  the  discrepancy  by  saying,  “  It  took  half  a 
minute  for  you  to  tell  me ;  I  reckoned  from  the  end  of 
your  telling  me” 

S - 1  was  told  in  the  trance  that  he  was  to  look 

out  of  the  window  seven  minutes  after  waking,  and 
that  he  was  to  write  how  the  time  was  going.  He  was 
then  awakened.  This  was  7.34J  p.  m.  I  set  him  to  the 
planchette,  and  the  writing  began  at  7.36f.  I  did  not 
watch  the  process,  but  when  I  stood  holding  the  screen 
in  front  of  his  eyes  I  was  so  close  to  his  hand  that  I 
could  not  help  becoming  aware  that  the  writing  was 
being  produced  at  distinct  intervals.  I  remarked  that 
he  was  going  by  fits  and  starts,  and  seemed  to  have  to 
pause  to  get  up  steam.  Immediately  on  the  conclu¬ 
sion  of  the  writing  at  7.40  he  got  up  and  drew  aside  the 
blind,  and  looked  out.  Examining  the  paper,  I  found 

“  25,  34,  43,  52,  61,  7 

Clearly  he  had  aimed  at  recording  at  each  moment 
when  he  began  the  number  that  had  passed '  and  the 
number  that  remained.  The  subwaking,  suggestible, 
hypnotic  being  seems  to  be  not  a  physiological  automa¬ 
ton,  but  a  self,  possessing  consciousness,  memory,  and 
even  a  rudimentary  intelligence. 

Sphygmographic  or  tracings  of  the  radial  artery 
seem  to  point  to  the  same  conclusion.  Thus  in  the 
normal  state,  on  the  application  of  agreeable  stimuli, 
such  as  perfumes,  the  curves  become  broader,  the  pulse 
slower,  indicating  a  muscular  relaxation  of  the  heart ; 
while  on  the  other  hand,  if  disagreeable  or  painful 
stimuli  are  applied,  such  as  pricking,  faradic  or  gal¬ 
vanic  currents,  ammonia,  acetic  acid,  formaline,  etc.,  the 
pulse  becomes  rapid,  the  “  Huckstoss  elevation,”  or  the 


Plate  II.  A,  B ,  G  and  D  are  sphygmographic 
or  pulse  tracings  in  the  fully  waking  normal  state. 
The  first  part  of  each  tracing  in  A,  C  and  I)  shows 
the  normal  pulse  of  the  subject ;  the  rest  is  under 
the  influence  of  pain  stimuli,  such  as  ammonia  or 
acetic  acid.  B ,  in  the  first  part  of  the  record,  is 
normal,  with  no  stimulus  ;  the  second  part  of  the 
record  shows  the  influence  of  the  pleasant  stimulus 
of  vanilla  ;  the  third  part  of  B  shows  the  effect  of 
acetic  acid. 

Tracings  B  and  G  are  of  the  same  subject  whose 
characteristic  normal  (rather  abnormal)  pulse  was 
that  of  G  normal.  Under  the  influence  of  pleasant 
stimuli  (i?,  “  vanilla  ”)  the  abnormal  (normal  to  this 
subject)  characteristics  of  this  pulse  became  more 
manifest.  Under  the  influence  of  painful  stimuli 
(acetic  acid,  ammonia,  etc.)  the  abnormal  charac¬ 
teristic  (normal  pulse  of  this  subject)  disappeared, 
and  the  pulse  became  a  typical  normal  pulse. 

Tracing  E,  in  the  first  part  of  the  record,  shows 
the  pulse  in  hypnosis,  but  with  no  application  of 
any  stimuli ;  the  second  part  of  the  record  shows 
the  influence  of  pain  stimuli  in  hypnosis  with  sug¬ 
gestive  analgesis. 

The  arrow  indicates  the  direction  in  which  the  record 


runs. 


}  -  - 


- 


'  •••;  ;h.:  >i;  fi  jw§|3 


. 

«*• 


.  *  -  .pi*  3  •  n  .  > 

' 

v 

<>{j.  Aiin  ‘ 


JVt/l  Yn.a_l  (A(jt*A  P  (a- clAMSU- , 


< 


CD 


O 


Q 


14 


THE  SECONDARY  SELF. 


107 


dicrotic  wave,  becomes  accentuated,  and  even  rises  in 
height  (in  cases  where  the  dicrotic  wave  is  absent  it  re¬ 
appears  under  pain),  the  heart  beats  increase,  indicating 
a  more  frequent  muscular  contraction. 

If  now  the  subject  is  hypnotized  and  made  an¬ 
aesthetic  and  analgesic,  and  agreeable  and  disagreeable 
stimuli  are  applied,  although  the  subject  feels  no  pain 
whatever,  still  the  characteristics  of  the  pain  and  pleas¬ 
ure  curves  are  strangely  marked,  indicating  the  pres¬ 
ence  of  a  diffused  subconscious  feeling. 

Records  of  respiration  and  of  the  radial  artery,  or 
what  is  called  pneumographic  and  sphygmographic 
tracings,  bring  out  clearly  the  real  nature  of  the  subcon¬ 
scious. 

This  is  done  in  the  following  way :  A  simultaneous 
pneumographic  and  sphygmographic  record  is  first 
taken  of  the  subject  while  he  is  in  his  normal  waking 
state.  A  second  record  is  then  taken,  with  the  only 
difference  that  disagreeable  and  painful  stimuli,  such  as 
faradic  current  or  odours  of  ammonia  or  acetic  acid,  are 
introduced.  The  tracings  will  at  once  show  the  painful 
sensations  of  the  subject.  The  curves  will  suddenly 
rise,  revealing  the  violent  reactions  to  the  unwelcome 
stimuli.  If  now  the  subject  is  thrown  into  a  hypnotic 
trance  and  a  third  record  is  taken,  we  shall  then  have 
the  following  curious  results  :  If  disagreeable  and  pain¬ 
ful  stimuli  are  applied,  and  if  analgesia  is  suggested, 
the  subject  claims  that  he  feels  no  pain  whatever.  In 
his  normal  waking  state  the  subject  will  strongly  react, 
he  will  scream  from  pain,  but  now  he  keeps  quiet.  Is 
there  no  reaction  ?  Does  the  subject  actually  feel  no 
pain  ?  Far  from  being  the  case.  If  we  look  at  the 
pneumographic  tracings  we  find  the  waves  uniformly 
deep  and  broad ,  the  respiration  is  hard  and  laboured ;  a 


108 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  SUGGESTION. 


similar  change  we  find  in  the  tracings  of  the  radial 
artery.  The  pain  feeling  is  there,  only  it  is  not  concen¬ 
trated  ;  it  is  diffused.  The  upper  consciousness  does 
not  feel  the  pain,  hut  the  subconsciousness  does.  The 
painful  or  uneasy  feeling  is  diffused  all  over  the  organic 
consciousness  of  the  secondary  self. 


Plate  III.  A  A  are  sphygmographic  and  pneu¬ 
mographic  tracings  of  the  subject  in  the  normal 
state.  B  B  are  tracings  of  normal  state  with  pain 
stimuli,  and  the  reaction  of  the  subject  is  shown 
in  the  abruptly  ascending  waves.  C  C  are  tracings 
of  the  subject  in  a  state  of  hypnosis,  with  suggested 
analgesia  or  loss  of  pain  sensibility,  and  under  the 
uninterrupted  application  of  pain  stimuli  (acetic 
acid,  ammonia,  electricity,  pricking,  etc.). 

(The  upper  tracing  of  each  couplet  is  sphygmo¬ 
graphic  ;  the  lower  is  pneumographic.) 


. 


/  • 


* 


. 

. 

. 

- 

- 

{.'  .  •••  v  •  i:L  T  V  >1  5  f  ;  •  '  >  - 


PLATE  III. 


Wv/ 


Plate  IY.  A  A  are  sphvgmographic  and  pneu¬ 
mographic  records  in  normal  state  under  the  influ¬ 
ence  of  pain  stimuli  (acetic  acid,  ammonia,  elec¬ 
tricity,  etc.).  B  B  and  G  G  are  tracings  under  the 
continuous  application  of  pain  stimuli  in  the  state 
of  hypnosis  with  suggestive  analgesia.  In  C  G  the 
suggestion  of  analgesia  was  in  one  place  annulled, 
the  reaction  became  very  powerful,  and  the  curve 
rose ;  with  the  renewed  suggestion  of  analgesia  the 
reaction  disappeared  and  the  curve  immediately 
fell. 

(The  upper  tracing  of  each  couplet  is  sphygmo- 
graphic  ;  the  lower  is  pneumographic.) 


- 

■ 

•  •  •"•{'. '  10  > 

'  - 

. 

' 

o  f  b  ■  '  •'!!  'oc  '  b  n  'i 

•  gomuoaq  rsw<  ■-  ;  O-"-. 


jVb\'rvua  L 


CHAPTER  XI. 


THE  SUBCONSCIOUS  SELF  AND  UNCONSCIOUS  CEREBRATION. 

The  facts  of  post-hypnotic  negative  hallucinations 
or  of  systematized  anaesthesia  still  further  reveal  the 
presence  of  a  subconscious  self  below  the  upper  waking 
consciousness.  The  following  interesting  experiments 
made  by  Bernheim  and  M.  Liegeois,  and  quoted  by 
Binet  in  his  remarkable  book,  The  Alternations  of  Per¬ 
sonality,  may  serve  as  good  illustrations : 

“Elise  B.,  eighteen  years  old,  a  servant,  suffering 
from  sciatica.  She  was  a  respectable  young  girl,  steady, 
of  average  intelligence,  and,  with  the  exception  of  her 
sciatica,  presenting  no  neuropathic  manifestations,  symp¬ 
toms,  nor  hereditary  tendencies. 

“  It  was  very  easy,  after  her  first  sitting,  to  bring  on 
somnambulism  coupled  with  a  state  in  which  she  was 
sensitive  to  hallucinations  both  hypnotic  and  post-hyp¬ 
notic,  and  to  amnesia  on  awaking.  I  easily  developed 
negative  hallucinations  with  her.  During  her  sleep  I 
said  to  her,  ‘When  you  wake  you  will  no  longer  see 
me :  I  shall  have  gone.’  When  she  awoke  she  looked 
about  for  me,  and  did  not  seem  to  see  me.  I  talked  to 
her  in  vain,  shouted  in  her  ear,  stuck  a  pin  in  her  skin, 
her  nostrils,  under  the  nails,  and  thrust  the  point  of  the 
pin  in  the  mucous  membrane  of  the  eye.  She  did  not 
move  a  muscle.  As  far  as  she  was  concerned,  I  had 

109 


110 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  SUGGESTION. 


ceased  to  exist,  and  all  the  acoustic,  visual,  tactile,  and 
other  impressions  emanating  from  myself  did  not  make 
the  slightest  impression  upon  her  ;  she  ignored  them  all, 
As  soon,  however,  as  another  person,  unknown  to  her* 
touched  her  with  the  pin,  she  perceived  it  quickly,  and 
drew  back  the  member  that  had  been  pricked. 

“  I  may  add,  in  passing,  that  this  experiment  is  not 
equally  successful  with  all  somnambulists.  Many  patients 
do  not  realize  negative  sensorial  suggestions,  and  others 
only  partially.  Some,  for  example,  when  I  declare  that 
they  shall  not  see  me  on  awaking,  do  not  see  me,  indeed, 
but  they  do  hear  my  voice  and  feel  my  touch.  Some 
are  astonished  to  hear  me  and  feel  the  pricks  without 
seeing  me,  others  do  not  attempt  to  understand  it,  and, 
finally,  others  believe  that  the  voice  and  the  sensation 
come  from  another  person  who  is  present.  Sometimes 
the  negative  hallucination  is  made  complete  for  all  their 
sensations  when  the  suggestion  is  given  in  this  way: 
‘When  you  wake,  if  I  touch  you  and  prick  you  you 
will  not  feel  it ;  if  I  speak  to  you  you  will  not  hear 
me.  Moreover,  you  will  not  see  me :  I  shall  have 
gone.’  Some  subjects’  sensations  are  quite  neutralized 
after  this  detailed  suggestion ;  with  others,  only  the 
visual  sensation  is  neutralized,  all  the  other  negative 
sensorial  suggestions  remaining  ineffectual. 

“  The  somnambulist  of  whom  I  speak  realized  every¬ 
thing  to  perfection.  Logical  in  her  delusive  conception, 
she  apparently  did  not  perceive  me  with  any  of  her 
senses.  It  was  useless  to  tell  her  that  I  was  there  and 
that  I  was  talking  to  her.  She  was  convinced  that  they 
were  simply  making  fun  at  her  expense.  I  gazed  at 
her  obstinately,  and  said :  ‘You  see  me  well  enough, 
but  you  act  as  if  you  did  not  see  me.  You  are  a  hum¬ 
bug;  you  are  playing  a  part.’  She  did  not  stir,  and 


THE  SUBCONSCIOUS  SELF. 


Ill 


continued  to  talk  to  other  people.  I  added  with  a  con¬ 
fident  manner:  ‘However,  I  know  all  about  it.  You 
can  not  deceive  me.  It  is  only  two  years  since  you  had 
a  child,  and  you  made  away  with  it.  Is  that  true  ?  I 
have  been  told  so.’  She  did  not  move ;  her  face  re¬ 
mained  peaceful.  Wishing  to  see,  on  account  of  its 
■medico-legal  bearing,  whether  a  serious  offence  might 
be  committed  under  cover  of  a  negative  hallucination, 
I  roughly  raised  her  dress  and  skirt.  Although  natu¬ 
rally  very  modest,  she  allowed  this  without  a  blush. 
I  pinched  the  calf  of  her  leg  and  thigh.  She  made 
absolutely  no  sign  whatever.  I  am  convinced  that  she 
might  have  been  assaulted  in  this  state  without  the 
slightest  resistance. 

“  That  established,  I  asked  the  head  of  the  clinic  to 
put  her  to  sleep  again  and  suggest  to  her  that  I  should 
again  be  there  when  she  awoke.  This  she  realized. 
She  saw  me  again,  and  remembered  nothing  that  had 
happened  in  the  interval.  I  said  to  her:  ‘You  have 
just  seen  me.  I  talked  with  you.’  She  was  astonished, 
and  said,  ‘  Why,  no,  you  were  not  there.’  ‘  I  was  there, 
and  I  did  talk  with  you.  Ask  these  gentlemen  if  I 
didn’t.’  ‘I  saw  these  gentlemen  very  well.  M.  P. 
tried  to  persuade  me  that  you  were  there.  But  that 
was  only  a  joke.  You  were  not  there.’  ‘Very  well,’ 
I  said,  ‘but  you  remember  everything  that  happened 
while  I  was  not  there — all  that  I  said  and  did  to  you.’ 
‘  But  how  could  you  say  and  do  anything  to  me  when 
you  were  not  there  ?  ’  I  insisted.  Speaking  seriously, 
and  looking  her  in  the  face,  I  laid  stress  on  every 
word :  ‘  It  is  true,  I  was  not  there,  but  you  remember 
just  the  same.’  I  put  my  hand  on  her  forehead  and 
declared,  ‘  You  remember  everything,  absolutely  every¬ 
thing.  There — speak  out:  what  did  I  say  to  you?’ 


112 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  SUGGESTION. 


After  a  moment’s  concentrated  thought,  she  blushed, 
and  said,  4  Oh,  no,  it  is  imposible ;  I  must  have  dreamed 
it.’  ‘  Yery  well ;  what  did  I  say  to  you  in  this  dream  ?  ’ 
She  was  ashamed,  and  did  not  want  to  say.  I  insisted. 
At  last  she  said,  4  You  said  that  I  had  had  a  child.’  6  And 
what  did  I  do  to  you  V  ‘You  pricked  me  with  a  pin.’ 
‘  And  then  ?  ’  After  a  few  minutes  she  said,  ‘  Oh,  no, 
I  would  not  have  allowed  you  to  do  it ;  it  is  a  dream.’ 
‘  What  did  you  dream  ?  ’  c  That  you  exposed  me,’  etc. 

“  In  this  way  I  was  able  to  call  up  the  memory  of 
all  that  had  been  said  and  done  by  me  while  she  sup¬ 
posed  that  she  did  not  see  me.  Therefore,  in  reality 
she  both  saw  and  heard  me,  notwithstanding  her  ap¬ 
parent  obtuseness — she  neither  saw  nor  heard  me.  She 
saw  me  with  her  bodily  (subconscious)  eyes,  but  she  did 
not  see  me  with  the  eyes  of  the  mind  (upper  conscious¬ 
ness).  She  was  smitten  with  blindness,  deafness,  and 
psychical  anaesthesia  as  far  as  I  was  concerned.  All 
sensorial  impressions  emanating  from  me  were  dis¬ 
tinctly  perceived,  but  remained  unconscious  for  her 
(upper  consciousness). 

“  Similar  experiments  were  performed  by  M.  Lie- 
geois.  ‘  I  no  longer  existed,’  writes  M.  Liegeois,  ‘  as 
far  as  Madame  M.  was  concerned,  to  whom  M.  Liebault 
had,  at  my  request,  suggested  that  when  she  woke  she 
would  no  longer  see  or  hear  me.  I  spoke  to  her :  she 
did  not  reply.  I  stood  before  her  :  she  did  not  see  me. 
I  pricked  her  with  a  pin :  she  felt  no  pain.  She  was 
asked  where  I  was  :  she  said  she  did  not  know — that  I 
had  undoubtedly  gone,  etc. 

“  I  then  conceived  the  idea  of  making  some  sugges¬ 
tions  in  loud  tones  to  this  person,  for  whom  I  had 
seemed  to  become  an  entire  stranger;  and,  what  was 
very  singular,  she  obeyed  these  suggestions. 


THE  SUBCONSCIOUS  SELF. 


113 


u  I  told  her  to  rise :  she  rose.  To  sit  down :  she 
seated  herself.  To  make  her  hands  revolve  round  one 
another  i  she  did  so.  I  suggested  a  toothache  to  her, 
and  she  had  a  toothache ;  sneezing,  and  she  sneezed.  I 
said  that  she  was  cold,  and  she  shivered ;  that  she  ought 
to  go  to  the  stove — in  which  there  was  no  fire — and  there 
she  went ;  until  I  told  her  that  she  was  warm,  and  then 
she  was  all  right.  During  all  this  time  she  was,  as  far 
as  all  the  assistants  were  concerned,  as  fully  awake  as 
they  were.  When  questioned  by  them,  she  replied  that 
I  was  absent,  she  did  not  know  why ;  perhaps  I  would 
soon  come  back,  etc.  Questioned  by  me  with  the  use 
of  the  first  personal  pronoun,  all  my  questions  remained 
unanswered.  She  only  realized  the  ideas  I  expressed 
impersonally,  if  I  may  use  such  an  expression,  and  as  if 
she  drew  from  her  own  thought.  It  is  her  unconscious 
(subconscious)  ego  that  causes  her  to  act,  and  the  con¬ 
scious  ego  has  not  the  slightest  idea  of  the  impulse  that 
she  receives  from  without. 

“  The  experiment  seemed  to  me  sufficiently  inter¬ 
esting  to  bear  repeating  on  another  subject,  Camille  S., 
and  here  is  a  concise  resume  of  the  proofs  and  verifica¬ 
tions  secured  some  days  later  from  this  girl : 

“  Camille  S.  is  eighteen  years  old,  and  a  very  good 
somnambulist.  M.  Liebault  and  I  have  known  her  for 
nearly  four  years.  We  have  often  put  her  to  sleep.  We 
always  found  her  to  be  perfectly  sincere,  and  we  came 
to  have  entire  confidence  in  her.  This  statement  is 
necessary,  as  we  shall  see,  to  give  weight  to  the  singular 
results  obtained  which  confirmed  absolutely  the  first 
observation  made  on  Madame  M. 

“  M.  Liebault  put  Camille  to  sleep,  and  at  my  re¬ 
quest  suggested  to  her  that  she  would  no  longer  see  or 
hear  me ;  then  he  left  me  to  experiment  in  my  own 


114 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  SUGGESTION. 


way.  When  she  awoke  the  subject  was  in  communica¬ 
tion  with  everybody,  except  that  I  no  longer  existed  for 
her.  Yet,  as  I  am  about  to  show,  that  is  not  quite 
accurate.  It  was  as  if  there  were  two  personalities 
within  her — one  that  saw  me  when  the  other  did  not 
see  me,  and  that  heard  me  when  the  other  paid  no 
attention  to  what  I  was  saying. 

“  In  the  first  place,  I  assured  myself  of  the  state  of 
her  sensibility.  And  it  was  very  curious  that  this  ex¬ 
isted  for  all  the  assistants,  but  did  not  exist  for  any¬ 
thing  emanating  from  me.  If  any  one  else  pricked  her 
she  quickly  drew  her  arm  back.  If  I  pricked  her  she 
did  not  feel  it.  I  stuck  pins  in  her  that  remained  hang¬ 
ing  from  her  arms  and  cheek.  She  complained  of  no 
sensation,  not  feeling  them  at  all.  This  fact  of  anaes¬ 
thesia,  not  real,  but  in  a  measure  personal,  is  certainly 
very  singular.  It  is  quite  new,  if  I  am  not  mistaken. 
In  the  same  way,  if  I  held  a  bottle  of  ammonia  under 
her  nose  she  did  not  push  it  away,  but  she  turned  away 
from  it  when  it  was  presented  to  her  by  a  strange  hand. 

“  While  she  was  in  this  condition,  neither  seeing  nor 
hearing  me — apparently,  at  least — almost  all  the  sug¬ 
gestions  are  carried  out  that  may  be  made  in  the  wak¬ 
ing  state.  I  sum  them  up  in  the  order  in  which  they 
follow,  from  my  notes  taken  at  the  time,  June  14th, 
1888. 

“  I  need  not  repeat  that  if  I  speak  directly  to 
Camille  S. — if  I  ask  her,  for  example,  how  she  is,  how 
long  it  is  since  she  stopped  growing,  etc. — her  coun¬ 
tenance  remains  impassive.  She  neither  sees  nor  hears 
me — at  least  she  is  not  conscious  of  so  doing. 

“I  then  proceed,  as  I  said  above,  impersonally, 
talking  not  in  my  own  name,  but  as  if  an  internal  voice 
of  her  own  was  speaking,  and  expressing  such  ideas  as 


THE  SUBCONSCIOUS  SELF. 


115 


the  subject  would  be  likely  to  get  from  her  own  private 
thought.  Then  somnambulistic  automatism  shows  itself 
in  this  new  and  unexpected  guise  as  complete  as  any  of 
the  other  forms  already  known. 

44  I  said  aloud,  4  Camille  is  thirsty ;  she  is  going  to 
the  kitchen  for  a  glass  of  water,  that  she  will  bring 
back  and  set  on  this  table.’  She  did  not  seem  to  have 
heard  me,  and  yet  in  a  few  minutes  she  acted  as  I  had 
said,  and  carried  out  the  suggestion  with  that  brisk  and 
impetuous  manner  which  has  already  been  frequently 
noticed  in  somnambulists.  She  was  asked  why  she 
brought  the  glass  that  she  put  on  the  table.  She  did 
not  know  what  was  meant.  She  had  not  moved.  There 
was  no  glass  there. 

“I  said,  ‘Camille  sees  the  glass,  but  there  is  no 
water  in  it,  as  they  are  trying  to  make  her  believe ;  it 
is  wine,  and  very  good  wine,  too ;  she  is  going  to  drink 
it,  and  it  will  do  her  good.’  She  promptly  performed 
the  order  thus  given  to  her,  then  immediately  forgot  all 
about  it. 

u  I  made  her  say  some  words  in  succession  that 
were  scarcely  proper.  4  Devil  take  it !  ’  4  Confound  it !  ’ 

4  Con - ’  and  she  repeated  all  that  I  suggested  to  her, 

but  instantly  losing  the  memory  of  what  she  had  just 
said. 

44  A  certain  M.  F.,  astonished  at  this,  upbraided  her 
for  using  these  unseemly  expressions.  She  said  :  4 1 
did  not  say  those  vulgar  words.  What  do  you  take  me 
for  ?  You  are  dreaming ;  you  must  have  gone  mad.’ 

44  She  saw  me  without  seeing  me,  as  this  shows.  I 
said,  4  Camille  is  going  to  sit  on  M.  L.’s  knee.’  She  im¬ 
mediately  jumped  violently  on  my  knee,  and,  on  being 
questioned,  declared  that  she  had  not  moved  from  the 
bench  where  she  was  seated  a  moment  before. 


116 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  SUGGESTION. 


44  M.  Liebault  spoke  to  me.  As  she  neither  saw  nor 
heard  me  consciously,  she  was  astonished,  and  then  be¬ 
gan  a  conversation  with  him  in  which  I  played  the  part 
of  a  prompter  who  dwelt  in  her  own  brain.  I  suggest¬ 
ed  all  the  following  words  to  her,  and  she  uttered  them, 
thinking  that  she  was  expressing  her  own  thought : 

44 4  M.  Liebault,  aren’t  you  talking  to  the  wall  ?  I 
must  put  you  to  sleep  to  cure  you.  We  will  change 
roles,’  etc. 

44  4  M.  F.,  how  is  your  bronchitis  ?  ’ 

44  M.  F.  asked  her  how  and  why  she  said  all  this. 
She  replied,  after  I  had  whispered  to  her :  4  How  dfc 
you  think  it  comes  to  me  ?  Just  as  it  comes  to  every 
one.  How  do  your  own  thoughts  come  ?  ’  and  she  con¬ 
tinued  to  enlarge  upon  the  theme  given  her  by  me. 

44  She  seemed  to  be  in  a  perfectly  normal  state,  and 
held  her  own  with  all  the  assistants  with  great  presence 
of  mind.  Only  in  the  midst  of  her  conversation  she 
inserted  the  phrases  that  I  created  in  her  mind,  uncon¬ 
sciously  making  them  her  own. 

44  Thus,  while  she  was  arguing  with  M.  F.,  whom  she 
told  that  she  would  take  to  Mareville,*  her  interlocutor 
having  objected,  4 1  am  not  insane,’  she  replied  :  4  All 
insane  people  say  that  they  are  not  insane.  You  say 
that  you  are  not  insane,  therefore  you  must  be  insane.’ 
She  was  very  proud  of  her  syllogism,  and  never  sus¬ 
pected  that  she  had  just  got  it  from  me. 

44  Wishing  to  make  sure,  once  more,  that  she  saw  me 
without  being  conscious  of  it,  I  said  :  4  Camille  is  going 
to  take  a  bottle  of  cologne  out  of  M.  L.’s  vest  pocket ; 
she  will  uncork  it  and  enjoy  its  delightful  odour.’  She 
rose,  came  directly  to  me,  looked  first  in  the  left,  then 


*  Lunatic  asylum  near  Nancy. 


THE  SUBCONSCIOUS  SELF. 


m 


in  the  right  pocket,  took  out  a  bottle  of  ammonia,  un¬ 
corked  it,  and  inhaled  it  with  pleasure.  I  was  obliged 
to  take  it  away  from  her.  Then,  still  under  the  influ¬ 
ence  of  suggestion,  she  took  off  my  right  shoe.  M.  F. 
said  to  her :  4  What  are  you  doing  there  ?  You  are  tak¬ 
ing  off  one  of  M.  L.’s  shoes  ! ’  She  was  offended. 
4  What  are  you  talking  about  ?  M.  L.  is  not  here,  so  it 
is  not  possible  for  me  to  take  off  his  shoe.  You  are 
still  more  insane  than  you  were  just  now  !  ’  And  when 
M.  F.  raised  both  arms  while  he  was  talking  to  me, 
Camille  cried :  4  Absolutely,  I  must  take  you  to  Mare- 
ville.  It  is  too  bad  !  Poor  M.  F. !  ’  He  did  not  seem 
to  be  cast  down  by  her  remark.  4  But  what  shoe  is  that 
that  you  are  holding  ?  what  is  it  ? 5  I  came  to  my  sub¬ 
ject’s  assistance,  and  said:  4 It  is  a  shoe  that  Camille 
must  try  on ;  she  was  not  able  to  do  it  this  morning  at 
home,  because  the  shoemaker  did  not  keep  his  appoint¬ 
ment.  He  was  drunk,  and  he  has  only  just  brought  it. 
She  is  going  to  try  it  on  right  here.’ 

44  All  that  was  accepted,  repeated  exactly,  and 
promptly  performed  as  if  by  spontaneous  inspiration. 
For  propriety’s  sake  she  turned  toward  the  wall  to  try 
on  my  shoe.  She  found  it  a  little  large,  and  returned 
it  to  me,  because  I  said  she  ought  to  return  it  to  me. 

44  Finally,  at  my  suggestion,  she  took  the  glass  back 
to  the  kitchen.  When  she  returned,  questioned  by  M. 
F.,  she  declared  that  she  had  not  left  the  room,  that  she 
had  not  drunk  anything,  and  that  she  had  not  had  a 
glass  in  her  hands.  It  was  of  no  use  to  show  her  the 
wet  ring  that  the  bottom  of  the  glass  had  left  on  the 
table.  She  did  not  see  any  ring ;  there  was  none ; 
they  were  trying  to  fool  her.  And  then,  in  order  to 
prove  what  she  said,  she  passed  her  hand  over  the 
table  several  times,  making  the  leaves  fly  on  which  I 


118 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  SUGGESTION. 


took  my  notes,  and  which,  shared  in  my  privilege  of 
being  invisible,  without  seeing  them.  If  there  had 
been  an  inkstand  there,  it  too  would  undoubtedly  have 
been  thrown  to  the  floor. 

“  In  order  to  bring  this  series  of  tests  to  an  end,  I 
said  aloud :  4  Camille,  you  are  going  to  see  and  hear  me. 
I  will  open  your  eyes.  You  are  now  all  right.’  I  was 
three  metres  from  her,  but  the  suggestion  operated. 
Camille  passed  without  any  apparent  transition  stage 
from  the  state  of  negative  hallucination  into  which  M. 
Liebault  had  thrown  her  into  the  normal  state,  which 
in  her  case  was,  as  usual,  accompanied  by  complete  am¬ 
nesia.  She  had  no  idea  of  all  that  had  just  happened — 
the  numerous  experiments,  varied  in  every  conceivable 
way,  the  hallucinations,  the  words,  the  actions  in  which 
she  played  the  principal  part — all  this  was  forgotten ;  it 
was  all,  as  far  as  she  was  concerned,  as  if  it  had  not  been.” 

I  can  not  do  better  than  to  bring  M.  Liegeois’s  own 
interpretation  of  his  experiments,  an  interpretation  with 
which  I  fully  agree : 

“  During  the  negative  hallucinations,”  says  M.  Lie- 
geois,  “  the  subject  sees  what  he  does  not  seem  to  see, 
and  hears  what  he  does  not  seem  to  hear.  Two  person¬ 
alities  (selves)  exist  within  him — an  unconscious  (sub¬ 
conscious)  ego  that  sees  and  hears,  and  a  conscious  ego 
that  does  not  see  nor  hear.”  And  I  may  add  that  not 
only  do  the  two  egos  exist  within  the  state  of  negative 
hallucination,  but  also  within  the  normal  state. 

The  facts  of  hypnotic  memory  alone  strongly  indi¬ 
cate  the  intelligent  nature  of  the  subconscious.  Can 
the  theory  of  unconscious  cerebration*  explain,  for  in- 

*  On  unconscious  cerebration,  see  Carpenter’s  Mental  Physi¬ 
ology  ;  Ireland,  The  Blot  upon  the  Brain ;  Laycock,  Unconscious 
Cerebration,  Journal  of  Mental  Science^  January  and  April,  1876; 


THE  SUBCONSCIOUS  SELF. 


119 


stance,  the  fact  of  suggested  amnesia  during  hypnosis  ? 
I  hypnotize  Mr.  Y.  F.,  and  make  him  pass  through 
many  lively  scenes  and  actions.  I  give  him  hypnotic 
and  post-hypnotic  suggestions.  The  subject  is  wakened 
and  hypnotized  time  and  again.  At  last  he  is  put  into 
a  hypnotic  state,  and  is  suggested  that  on  awaking  he 
shall  not  remember  anything  of  what  had  happened  in 
the  state  of  hypnosis.  The  subject,  on  emerging  from 
his  trance,  remembers  nothing  of  what  he  has  passed 
through.  I  then  put  my  hand  on  his  forehead  and 
tell  him  in  a  commanding  voice,  “  You  remember  now 
everything !  ”  As  if  touched  by  the  wand  of  a  ma¬ 
gician,  the  suppressed  memories  become  endowed  with 
life  and  movement  and  invade  the  consciousness  of 
the  subject.  Everything  is  now  clearly  remembered, 
and  the  subject  is  able  to  relate  the  tale  of  his  ad¬ 
ventures  without  the  omission  of  the  least  incident. 
So  detailed  is  the  account  that  one  can  not  help  won¬ 
dering  at  the  extraordinary  memory  displayed  by  the 
subject.  How  is  the  theory  of  unconscious  cerebra¬ 
tion  to  account  for  this  strange  fact  ?  Prof.  Ziehen, 
in  his  Physiological  Psychology,  tells  us  that  “it  is 
still  a  matter  of  doubt  whether,  despite  their  com- 
plicateness,  all  the  facts  of  the  hypnotized  individual 
are  not  motions  accomplished  without  any  concomitant 
psychical  processes,”  and  that  “  even  the  recollection  of 
the  hypnotic  psychical  processes  do  not  necessarily  argue 
in  favor  of  their  existence  during  hypnotic  trance.” 
This  extreme  view  is  certainly  wrong ;  for  the  subject 
during  hypnosis  not  only  acts,  moves,  but  he  also  speaks, 
answers  questions  intelligently,  reasons,  discusses ;  and 


Pierce  and  Podmore,  Subliminal  Self  or  Unconscious  Cerebration, 
Proc.  Soc.  for  Psych.  Res.,  vii,  1875. 

9 


120 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  SUGGESTION. 


if  such  an  individual  may  still  be  regarded  as  a  mere 
machine,  on  the  same  grounds  we  may  as  well  consider 
any  rational  man  as  a  mere  unconscious  automaton.* 

The  advocates  of  unconscious  cerebration  must  ad¬ 
mit  at  least  this  much,  that  hypnosis  is  a  conscious  state. 
Now,  on  the  theory  of  unconscious  cerebration  it  is 
truly  inconceivable  how  psychical  states  can  be  sup¬ 
pressed,  the  accompanying  unconscious  physiological 
processes  alone  being  left,  and  all  that  done  by  a  mere 
word  of  the  experimenter.  The  restoration  of  memory 
is  still  more  incomprehensible  than  even  the  suggested 
amnesia.  A  command  by  the  experimenter,  “  Now  you 
can  remember !  ”  brings  into  consciousness  a  flood  of 
ideas  and  images.  It  is  not  that  the  experimenter  gives 
the  subject  a  clew  which  starts  trains  of  particular  images 
and  ideas,  but  the  mere  general,  abstract  suggestion, 
“  You  can  remember !  ”  is  sufficient  to  restore  memories 
which  to  all  appearances  have  completely  vanished 
from  the  mind  of  the  subject.  Are  the  unconscious 
physiological  nervous  modifications  so  intelligent  as  to 
understand  suggestions  and  follow  them  ?  Does  uncon¬ 
scious  cerebration  understand  the  command  of  the  ex¬ 
perimenter,  and  does  it  oblige  him  to  become  conscious  ? 
On  closer  examination,  we  find  the  term  unconscious 
cerebration  to  be  of  so  loose  a  nature  that  under  its 
head  are  often  recorded  facts  that  clearly  indicate  the 
working  of  an  intelligence.  Thus  Mr.  Charles  M.  Child 
brings  the  following  fact  as  a  specimen  of  unconscious 
cerebration :  f 

“  I  had  earnestly  been  trying,”  a  gentleman  writes 

*  Besides,  post-hypnotic  amnesia  is  rarely  spontaneous  ;  as  a  rule, 
it  is  induced  by  suggestion. 

f  Unconscious  Cerebration,  American  Journal  of  Psychology, 
November,  1892. 


THE  SUBCONSCIOUS  SELF. 


121 


to  Mr.  Child,  “  to  make  a  trial  balance,  and  at  last  left 
off  working,  the  summary  of  the  Dr.  and  Cr.  sides  of 
the  account  showing  a  difference  of  £2  10s.,  the  Dr. 
side  being  so  much  smaller.  The  error  I  had  not  found 
on  Saturday  night  when  I  left  the  countinghouse.  On 
this  same  Saturday  night  I  retired  feeling  nervous,  and 
angry  with  myself.  Some  time  in  the  night  I  dreamed 
thus :  I  was  seated  at  my  desk  in  the  countinghouse 
and  in  a  good  light ;  everything  was  orderly  and  natu¬ 
ral,  the  ledger  lying  before  me.  I  was  looking  over 
the  balance  of  the  accounts  and  comparing  them  with 
the  sums  in  the  trial-balance  sheet.  Soon  I  came  to  a 
debit  balance  of  £2  10s.  I  looked  at  it,  called  myself 
sundry  names,  spoke  to  myself  in  a  deprecating  man¬ 
ner  of  my  own  eyes,  and  at  last  put  the  £2  10s.  to  its 
proper  side  of  the  trial-balance  sheet  and  went  home. 
I  arose  at  the  usual  Sunday  time,  dressed  carefully, 
breakfasted,  went  to  call  on  some  .  .  .  friends  to  go  to 
church.  Suddenly  the  dream  flashed  on  my  memory. 
I  went  for  the  keys,  opened  the  office,  also  the  safe,  got 
the  ledger,  and  turned  to  the  folio  my  dream  had  indi¬ 
cated.  There  was  the  account  whose  balance  was  the 
sum  wanted  which  I  had  omitted  to  put  in  the  balance 
sheet,  where  it  was  put  now,  and  my  year’s  posting 
proved  correct.” 

The  adherents  of  unconscious  cerebration  tacitly 
include  under  this  term  not  only  unconscious  physio¬ 
logical  processes,  or  nerve  modifications,  but  also  psy¬ 
chical  states.  Keeping  clearly  in  mind  the  real  mean¬ 
ing  of  unconscious  cerebration  as  referring  to  physio¬ 
logical  processes  or  nerve  modifications  with  no  psy¬ 
chical  accompaniment,  the  difficulties  of  unconscious 
cerebration  to  account  for  the  phenomena  of  hypnotic 
memory  become  truly  insurmountable.  For  if  the 


122 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  SUGGESTION. 


physiological  processes  subsumed  under  the  category 
of  unconscious  cerebration  are  completely  lacking  any 
psychical  element  whatever,  how  can  a  general  abstract 
negative  phrase  suppress  particular  psychical  states, 
and  how  can  a  similar  positive  phrase  bring  the  for¬ 
gotten  memories  back  to  consciousness  ?  It  is  simply 
incomprehensible. 

Furthermore,  while  the  subject  is  in  a  hypnotic 
condition  we  can  suggest  to  him  that  on  awaking  he 
shall  not  remember  anything,  but  that  when  put  to 
the  automatic  recorder  he  shall  be  able  to  write  every¬ 
thing  that  has  taken  place  in  the  state  of  hypnosis. 
The  subject  is  then  awakened ;  he  remembers  nothing 
at  all  of  what  he  had  passed  through  while  in  the  state 
of  hypnotic  trance.  As  soon,  however,  as  he  is  put  to 
the  automatic  recorder  the  hand  gives  a  full,  rational 
account  of  all  the  events.  If  now  you  ask  the  subject 
what  it  is  he  has  written,  he  stares  at  you  in  confu¬ 
sion  ;  he  knows  nothing  at  all  of  the  writing.  How 
shall  we  account  for  this  fact  on  the  theory  of  un¬ 
conscious  cerebration  ?  Can  unconscious  physiological 
processes  write  rational  discourses  ?  It  is  simply  won¬ 
derful,  incomprehensible. 

These,  however,  are  not  the  only  difficulties  which 
the  theory  of  unconscious  cerebration  has  to  encounter. 
Take  the  following  experiment :  I  gave  Mr.  Y.  F.  the 
suggestion  that  on  awaking  he  should  put  my  coat  on 
three  times,  take  it  off,  and  put  it  on  again ;  that  he 
should  do  it  when  he  should  hear  a  signal  which  should 
be  a  knock  ;  amnesia  was  suggested,  and  also  the  possi¬ 
bility  of  writing  the  suggestion.  The  subject  was  then 
roused  from  his  trance.  There  was  not  the  slightest 
recollection  of  what  had  been  suggested,  but  when  he 
was  put  to  the  automatic  recorder  the  hand  at  once 


THE  SUBCONSCIOUS  SELF. 


12a 


proceeded  to  write  in  full  everything.  In  the  middle 
of  the  writing,  “  When  a  signal  will  be  given  .  .  . ,” 
I  stopped  the  subject’s  hand  and  asked  him  what  he 
was  writing  about.  “  I  do  not  know,”  he  answered. 
“  How  is  it,”  I  asked  again,  “  you  write,  and  you  do 
not  know  what  you  write ? ”  “I  do  not  know ;  I  think 
it  was  something  about  a  coat”  “What  was  it  you 
were  writing  about  a  coat  ?  ”  “  I  do  not  know ;  maybe 

about  the  make  of  a  coat.”  Then  when  the  signal 
came  he  rose  and  put  on  the  coat  three  times.  To 
take  another  experiment  of  the  same  kind :  I  give  the 
subject  the  suggestion  that  he  should  bow  to  the  gas 
whenever  the  door  should  be  opened ;  again  amnesia 
is  suggested,  with  the  possibility  of  writing.  The  sub¬ 
ject  is  stopped  when  he  finished  his  account.  “  What 
was  it  you  wrote  ?  ”  I  ask.  The  subject  looks  sur¬ 
prised.  I  repeat  my  question.  “  I  do  not  know ;  I 
think  something  about  a  door  ?  ”  “  What  was  it  about 

a  door ? ”  “I  do  not  know.”  I  have  made  many 
similar  experiments,  and  all  of  them  with  the  same 
results.  It  is  evident  that  the  writing  is  not  an  un¬ 
conscious  automatic  process,  for  the  subject  possesses 
a  general  knowledge  of  what  he  has  written,  or  even 
of  what  he  is  going  to  write.  How,  on  the  theory  of 
unconscious  cerebration  this  general  knowledge  ought 
to  be  entirely  lacking,  since  the  physiological  processes 
of  the  suppressed  memory  have  no  psychical  accom¬ 
paniment.  It  would  not  do  to  say  that  the  subject 
knows  each  word  as  he  writes  it,  but  becomes  un¬ 
conscious  of  it,  forgets  it,  as  soon  as  it  is  written  down ; 
because  the  subject  is  able  to  tell  the  central  idea — 
that  is,  he  has  a  general  knowledge  of  it ;  and,  what  is 
more,  he  is  able  to  tell  us  this  general  central  idea  even 
before  he  finishes  the  writing — in  fact,  he  can  do  it 


124 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  SUGGESTION. 


when  stopped  in  the  middle  of  the  phrase.  On  the 
theory  of  secondary  consciousness,  however,  the  ex¬ 
periments  could  not  possibly  give  other  results.  The 
secondary  consciousness  understands  the  suggestions 
given  by  the  experimenter,  accepts  them,  obeys  the 
commands,  keeps  the  suppressed  memories,  and  sends 
up  a  general  knowledge  of  them  to  the  upper  con¬ 
sciousness,*  and,  if  commanded,  communicates  the 
suppressed  particular  suggestions  in  all  their  details. 

The  advocates  of  unconscious  cerebration  assume 
too  much :  they  assume  that  normal  memory,  or  recol¬ 
lection  in  the  normal  state,  can  be  fully  accounted  for 
by  unconscious  physiological  processes,  and  the  only 
thing  required  is  to  apply  this  theory  to  the  phenom¬ 
ena  of  hypnotic  memory.  It  would  be  well  to  exam¬ 
ine  this  theory  and  see  how  strong  its  claims  are  in 
the  case  of  normal  memory. 

Many  a  modem  psycho-physiologist  no  doubt  smiles 
at  the  crude,  ancient  psycho-physiological  theory  of 
perception.  Images  or  copies  of  objects  emanate  from 
objects,  get  deposited  in  the  mind ;  hence  perception, 
cognition,  memory.  The  modern  psycho-physiological 
speculations,  however — the  speculations  of  Maudsley, 
Carpenter,  Ziehen,  Ribot,  etc. — are  no  less  crude. 
Thus  Ziehen,  for  instance,  conceives  that  each  sensa¬ 
tion  deposits  a  copy  of  itself — an  image,  an  idea — in 
some  one  of  the  memory  ganglion  cells,  and  memory 
consists  in  the  reproduction  of  this  copy — the  hen 
lays  an  egg  from  which  another  hen  may  come  out. 
Maudsley  expresses  the  same  thing  in  slightly  different 
terms ;  instead  of  “  deposits  of  images  in  memory 

*  I  am  rather  disposed  to  think  that  the  answer  in  these  cases 
is  given  not  by  the  upper  but  by  the  lower  consciousness  of  the 
subject. 


THE  SUBCONSCIOUS  SELF. 


125 


ganglion  cells,”  lie  uses  “  modifications  of  nerve  ele¬ 
ments.”  “  It  may  be  supposed,”  says  Maudsley,  “  that 
the  first  activity  did  leave  behind  it,  when  it  subsided, 
some  after-effect,  some  modification  of  the  nerve  ele¬ 
ment,  whereby  the  nerve  circuit  was  disposed  to  fall 
again  readily  into  the  same  action,  such  disposition 
(unconscious)  appearing  in  consciousness  as  recognition 
or  memory.”  Ribot  and  many  other  psychologists, 
with  slight  variations  in  minor  points,  follow  the  same 
beaten  track.  All  of  them  agree  that  it  is  the  nerve 
modifications  produced  by  the  physiological  processes 
of  sensations,  emotions,  etc.,  that  constitute  the  basis, 
nay,  the  very  essence,  of  memory  itself.  It  does  not 
require  a  close  examination  to  find  the  deficiencies  of 
this  theory.  A  mere  modification  left  behind  as  a 
trace  can  not  possibly  explain  memory,  recollection,  the 
fact  of  referring  a  particular  bit  of  experience  to  an 
experience  felt  before.  The  retention  of  a  trace  or  of 
a  nervous  modification,  and  the  reproduction  of  that 
trace  or  modification,  can  not  in  the  least  account  for 
the  fact  that  a  series  of  sensations,  ideas,  images,  emo¬ 
tions,  felt  at  different  times,  should  become  combined, 
brought  into  a  unity,  felt  like  being  similar,  like  being 
one  and  the  same,  like  being  repetitions,  copies  of  one 
original  experience.  It  is  not  retention  or  reproduc¬ 
tion ,  but  it  is  the  recognition  element  that  constitutes 
the  essentia  of  memory .  The  rose  of  to-day  reminds 
me  of  the  rose  seen  yesterday,  of  the  same  rose  seen 
the  day  before  yesterday.  Now,  the  image  of  the  rose 
may  be  retained,  may  even  be  reproduced,  but  if  it  is 
not  recognised  as  having  happened  in  my  past,  there 
can  be  no  recollection ;  in  short,  without  recognition 
there  is  no  memory.  As  Prof.  James  strongly  puts 
it,  “the  gutter  is  worn  deeper  by  each  successive 


126 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  SUGGESTION. 


shower,  but  not  for  that  reason  brought  into  contact 
with  previous  showers.”  Does  the  theory  of  uncon¬ 
scious  physiological  processes,  of  material  brain  traces, 
of  nerve  modifications — does  this  theory  take  into  ac¬ 
count  this  element  of  recognition  ?  Can  the  theory  of 
unconscious  cerebration  offer  the  faintest  suggestion  as 
to  how  that  element  of  recognition  is  brought  about  ? 
"What  is  that  something  added  to  the  unconscious 
physiological  trace  or  nerve  modification  that  effects  a 
conscious  recognition  ? 

Furthermore,  first  impressions  can  be  localized  in 
the  past,  but  so  can  also  each  subsequent  revival. 
How  shall  we  explain,  on  the  theory  of  unconscious 
physiological  nerve  registration,  that  the  original,  the 
primitive  sense  experience,  as  well  as  each  subsequent 
revival,  can  be  referred  to  as  distinct  psychical  facts  ? 
For  if  the  structural  nerve  elements  are  slightly  modi¬ 
fied  with  every  revival,  how  shall  we  account  for  this 
psychical  distinction  of  the  original  sense  experience 
as  well  as  of  the  modified  revivals  ?  The  remembered 
experience  leaves  its  own  individual  trace,  then  a  trace 
of  its  being  a  copy  of  a  former  original  impression,  and 
also  a  trace  of  its  being  a  member  in  a  series  of  similar 
traces,  each  trace  being  both  a  copy  of  one  another  and 
a  copy  of  the  original  impression.  How  this  is  done  is 
a  mystery. 

The  difficulties  of  the  unconscious  registration 
theory  increase  still  more  if  we  consider  that  the  ac¬ 
count  of  memory  as  usually  given  by  psychologists  is 
rather  inadequate.  Memory  is  the  recurrence  or  re¬ 
production  in  consciousness  of  a  former  experience. 
We  saw  a  certain  object  yesterday,  and  to-day,  when 
we  happen  to  think  of  that  object,  we  say  that  the 
image  or  idea  is  the  reproduction  and  recognition  in 


THE  SUBCONSCIOUS  SELF. 


127 


memory  of  the  previous  perception.  This,  however,  is 
but  a  partial  account  of  what  actually  takes  place  in 
the  process  of  recollection.  Psychologically  speaking, 
when  we  remember  something  we  have  not  a  repro¬ 
duction  of  some  past  experience,  but  an  actual  present 
experience  with  the  quality  of  pastness  about  it.  I 
remember  the  rose  I  saw  and  smelled  the  day  before ; 
what  I  have  here  is  simply  a  present  experience  in  the 
moment  content  of  consciousness,  and  this  experience 
is  projected  into  the  past  of  my  subjective  time.  The 
image  of  the  rose  I  have  now  turns  out  to  be  a  rose  of 
yesterday,  and  the  yesterday  itself  is  a  part  in  the  con¬ 
tent  of  the  present  moment  consciousness ;  in  other 
words,  my  present  experience  is  projected  into  my 
present  subjective  yesterday.  The  present  image  is 
the  primary  fact,  and  the  projection  of  it  into  the  past 
is  but  a  secondary  effect ;  but,  then,  the  process  is  re¬ 
versed — the  present  experience  is  regarded  as  second¬ 
ary,  and  the  secondary  as  primary.  Subjectively  con¬ 
sidered,  memory  is  the  reproduction  of  the  present  into 
the  past.  It  is  only  if  regarded  from  an  objective  stand¬ 
point  that  memory  becomes  the  reproduction  of  the  past 
into  the  present.  In  short,  in  memory  there  is  a  double 
process  going  on  :  the  projection  of  the  subjective  pres¬ 
ent  into  the  subjective  past,  and  then,  again,  the  pro¬ 
jection  of  the  objective  past  into  the  objective  present. 
This  process  may  be  graphically  represented  as  follows : 


SUBJECTIVE 


PRESENT 


OBJECTIVE 


PRESENT 


PAST 


PAST 


128 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  SUGGESTION. 


Does  the  physiological  registration  theory  account 
for  this  double  process?  It  certainly  does  not.  If 
now  the  theory  of  unconscious  physiological  traces  or 
nerve  modifications  is  found  inadequate  to  explain  the 
most  elementary  act  of  conscious  memory,  can  we  rely 
upon  it,  when  offered  to  us  in  the  garb  of  unconscious 
cerebration,  to  account  for  such  complex  psychical 
phenomena  as  hypnotic  memory  ? 

Unconscious  cerebration  failing,  we  must  fall  back 
on  the  psychical  interpretation  of  hypnosis  in  general, 
and  of  hypnotic  memory  in  particular.  The  subcon¬ 
sciousness  is  not  an  unconscious  physiological  automa¬ 
tism;  it  is  a  secondary  consciousness ,  a  secondary  self 


\ 


CHAPTER  XII. 


THE  DOUBLE  SELF. 

In  the  last  chapter  we  came  to  the  conclusion  that 
the  subconsciousness  is  not  a  mere  unconscious  physi¬ 
ological  automatism,  but  a  consciousness,  a  self  in  pos¬ 
session  of  memory,  and  even  intelligence.  Experiments 
and  observations,  however,  go  further  to  prove  that  this 
hidden  intelligence  may  be  of  still  higher  organization ; 
it  may  possess  even  some  degree  of  self-consciousness, 
which  may  grow  and  develop.  By  means  of  the  so- 
called  method  of  distraction  Prof.  Janet  entered  into 
direct  communication  with  the  secondary  self  of  his 
subject,  Louise. 

“  Do  you  hear  me  ?  ”  asked  Prof.  Janet.* 

“  Ans .  Ho. 

“  J.  But,  in  order  to  answer,  one  must  hear. 

“Ans.  Certainly. 

“  J.  Then  how  do  you  manage  ? 

“  Ans.  I  do  not  know. 

u  J.  There  must  be  somebody  who  hears  me. 

“Ans.  Yes. 

“  J.  Who  is  it  ? 

“Ans.  Hot  Louise. 

“  J.  Oh,  some  one  else.  Shall  we  call  her  Blanche  ? 

“Ans.  Yes,  Blanche. 


*  L’Automatisme  psychologique. 
129 


130 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  SUGGESTION. 


“  J.  "Well,  then,  Blanche,  do  yon  hear  me? 

“Ans.  Yes.” 

This  name,  however,  had  soon  to  be  given  np,  as 
it  happened  to  have  very  disagreeable  associations  in 
Louise’s  mind ;  and  when  Louise  was  shown  the  paper 
with  the  name  Blanche,  which  she  had  unconsciously 
written,  she  was  angry  and  wanted  to  tear  it  up.  An¬ 
other  name  had  to  be  chosen. 

“  J.  What  name  will  you  have  ? 

“  Ans.  No  name. 

“  J.  You  must ;  it  will  he  more  convenient. 

“  Ans.  Well,  then,  Adrienne.” 

Now  it  proved  that  Adrienne  knew  of  things  of 
which  Louise  was  entirely  ignorant.  Louise’s  special 
terror,  which  recurred  in  wild  exclamation  in  her  hys¬ 
terical  fits,  was  somehow  connected  with  hidden  men. 
She  could  not,  however,  recollect  the  incident.  But 
Adrienne,  when  questioned,  was  able  to  describe  all 
the  details. 

Louise  was  thrown  into  catalepsy ;  then  M.  Janet 
clinched  her  left  hand  (she  began  at  once  to  strike 
out),  put  a  pencil  in  her  right  hand,  and  said,  “  Adri¬ 
enne,  what  are  you  doing  ?  ”  The  left  hand  continued 
to  strike  and  the  face  to  bear  the  look  of  rage,  while 
the  right  hand  wrote,  “  I  am  furious !  ”  “  With  whom  ?  ” 
“  With  F.”  “  Why  ? ”  “I  do  not  know,  but  I  am 

very  angry.”  M.  Janet  then  unclinched  the  subject’s 
left  hand  and  put  it  gently  to  her  lips.  It  began  “  to 
blow  kisses,”  and  the  face  smiled.  “  Adrienne,  are 
you  still  angry  ?  ”  “  No,  that  is  over.”  “  And  now  ?  ” 

“  Oh,  I  am  happy.”  “  And  Louise  ?  ”  “  She  knows 

nothing ;  she  is  asleep.” 

This  case  is  extremely  interesting  as  indicating  at 
first  the  lack  of  self-consciousness  in  the  hypnotic  sub- 


THE  DOUBLE  SELF. 


131 


waking  self,  but  acquiring  it  in  the  course  of  communi¬ 
cation  with  the  external  world.  Under  favourable  con¬ 
ditions  the  subwaking  self  wakes  from  the  deep  trance 
in  which  it  is  immersed,  raises  its  head,  becomes  com¬ 
pletely  conscious,  and  rises  at  times  even  to  the  plane  of 
personality. 

When  Leonie  B.  (a  subject  of  M.  Janet)  is  hypno¬ 
tized  her  personal  character  undergoes  a  radical  change. 
She  assumes  a  different  name,  that  of  Leontine.  How 
Leontine  (that  is  Leonie  hypnotized)  was  told  by  Prof. 
Janet  that  after  the  trance  was  over  and  Leonie  had 
resumed  her  ordinary  life  she,  Leontine,  was  to  take 
off  her  apron  and  then  to  tie  it  on  again.  Leonie  was 
then  awakened  and  conducted  by  Prof.  Janet  to  the 
door,  talking  with  her  usual  respectful  gravity.  Mean¬ 
time  her  hands  untied  the  apron  and  took  it  off.  Prof. 
Janet  called  Leonie’s  attention  to  the  loosened  apron. 
“  Why,  my  apron  is  coming  off !  ”  Leonie  exclaimed, 
and  with  full  consciousness  (waking  consciousness)  she 
tied  the  apron  on  again.  She  then  continued  the  talk. 
At  Leontine’s  prompting  the  hands  once  more  began 
their  work,  and  the  apron  was  taken  off  again,  and  again 
replaced,  this  time  without  Leonie’s  attention  having 
been  directed  to  the  matter  at  all.  Only  then  Leon¬ 
tine  was  fully  satisfied  and  became  quiet.  Next  day 
Prof.  Pichet  hypnotized  Leonie  again,  and  presently 
Leontine  as  usual  emerged.  “Well,”  she  said,  “I  did 
what  you  told  me  yesterday.  How  stupid  the  other 
one  looked  while  I  took  off  her  apron !  Why  did  you 
tell  her  that  the  apron  was  falling  off  ?  I  was  obliged 
to  begin  the  job  all  over  again.” 

Once  this  secondary  self  attains  self-consciousness 
and  gets  crystallized  into  a  new  and  independent  per¬ 
sonality,  it  now  and  then  rises  to  the  surface  and  as« 


132 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  SUGGESTION. 


eumes  control  over  the  current  of  life.  The  secondary 
personality  may  blame,  dislike,  ridicule,  the  primary 
personality.  Thus  Leontine  calls  Leonie  44  that  stupid 
woman.”  Sometimes  the  secondary  personality  may 
treat  the  primary  with  great  animosity,  and  may  even 
threaten  to  destroy  it.  Prof.  Janet  received  from 
Madame  B.  a  very  curious  letter.  44  On  the  first  page,” 
he  says,*  44  was  a  short  note,  written  in  a  serious  and 
respectful  style.  She  was  unwell,  she  said — worse  on 
some  days  than  on  others — and  she  signed  her  true 
name,  Madame  B.  But  over  the  page  began  another 
in  a  quite  different  style.  4  My  dear  sir,5  thus  the  letter 
ran,  4 1  must  tell  you  that  B.  really  makes  me  suffer 
much ;  she  can  not  sleep ;  she  spits  blood ;  she  hurts 
me  ;  I  am  going  to  demolish  her ;  she  bores  me ;  I  am 
ill  also.  This  is  from  your  devoted  Leontine.’  ” 

Dr.  Osgood  Mason  reports  the  following  interesting 
case  :  f  44  Alma  Z.  has  been  under  my  observation  dur¬ 
ing  the  past  ten  years.  In  childhood  she  was  remark¬ 
able  for  her  intelligence  and  unusual  endowments.  Up 
to  her  eighteenth  year  she  was  in  robust  health,  ex¬ 
celling  all  her  companions  not  only  in  intellectual 
attainments  but  also  in  physical  culture,  being  expert 
in  gymnastic  exercises,  skating,  and  athletic  sports  gen¬ 
erally.  At  that  time,  owing  to  overwork  in  school,  .  .  . 
peculiar  psychical  conditions  made  their  appearance. 
Instead  of  the  educated,  thoughtful,  dignified,  womanly 
personality,  worn  with  illness  and  pain,  there  appeared 
a  bright,  sprightly  child  personality,  with  a  limited 
vocabulary,  ungrammatical  and  peculiar  dialect,  de¬ 
cidedly  Indian  in  character,  but,  as  used  by  her,  most 


*  P.  Janet,  L’Automatisme  psychologique. 
f  The  Journal  of  Nervous  and  Mental  Diseases,  September,  1893. 


THE  DOUBLE  SELF. 


133 


fascinating  and  amusing.  The  intellect  was  bright  and 
shrewd,  her  manner  lively  and  good-natured,  and  her 
intuitions  were  remarkably  correct  and  quick;  but, 
strangest  of  all,  she  was  free  from  pain,  could  take  v 
food,  and  had  comparatively  a  good  degree  of  strength. 
She  called  herself  ‘  Twoey,5  and  the  normal  or  usual 
personality  she  always  referred  to  as  ‘No.  1.’  She  pos¬ 
sessed  none  of  the  acquired  knowledge  of  the  primary 
personality,  but  was  bright  and  greatly  interested  in 
matters  going  on  about  her — in  family  affairs,  and 
everything  which  pertained  to  the  comfort  and  well¬ 
being  of  No.  1. 

“  The  new  personality  would  usually  remain  only  a 
few  hours,  but,  occasionally,  her  stay  was  prolonged  to 
several  days ;  and  then  the  normal  self — the  No.  1  of 
‘  Twoey 5 — returned  with  all  her  intelligence,  patience, 
and  womanly  qualities,  but  also  with  the  weakness  and 
suffering  which  characterized  her  illness. 

“No.  1  and  No.  2  were  apparently  in  every  respect 
separate  and  distinct  personalities.  Each  had  her  own 
distinct  consciousness  and  distinct  train  of  thought  and 
memories. 

“  When  No.  1  was  absent  and  ‘  Twoey  5  took  her 
place,  on  resuming  her  consciousness  she  commenced 
at  the  place  where  her  own  personality  had  been  inter¬ 
rupted  and  resumed  her  ordinary  life  exactly  at  that 
point.  To  No.  1  the  existence  of  any  second  person¬ 
ality  was  entirely  unknown  by  any  conscious  experi¬ 
ence,  and  the  time  which  ‘  Twoey  5  occupied  was  to  her 
a  blank.  If  ‘Twoey5  appeared  at  noon  on  Tuesday 
and  remained  until  Thursday  night,  when  she  disap¬ 
peared  and  No.  1  resumed  her  own  consciousness  and 
life,  she  would  commence  at  Tuesday  noon  where  that 
consciousness  was  interrupted.  The  intervening  time 


134 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  SUGGESTION. 


to  her  was  a  blank.  No.  2,  however,  while  having  her 
own  distinct  life,  knew  also  the  life  of  IN’ o.  1,  bnt  only 
as  a  distinct  personality,  entirely  separate  from  herself. 
dSTo.  1  also  came  to  know  6  Twoey  5  by  the  description 
given  by  others,  and  by  the  change  in  her  own  personal 
belongings  and  affairs  which  she  saw  had  been  effected 
during  her  absence.  The  two  personalities  became  great 
friends.  No.  2  admired  ISTo.  1  for  her  superior  knowl¬ 
edge,  her  patience  in  suffering,  and  the  lovely  qualities 
which  she  recognised,  and  she  willingly  took  her  place 
in  order  to  give  her  rest,  and,  as  it  seemed,  the  possi¬ 
bility  of  living  at  all.  IN’ o.  1  also  became  fond  of 
Twoey  on  account  of  the  loving  care  which  she  be¬ 
stowed  upon  her  and  her  affairs,  and  for  the  witty 
sayings  and  sprightly  and  pertinent  conversations  which 
were  reported  to  her,  and  which  she  greatly  enjoyed. 

“ ‘  Twoey 5  seemed  to  have  the  power  of  going  and 
coming  at  will.  She  often  left  communications  to  No. 
1,  mostly  written  (for  she  became  able  to  write  in  her 
peculiar  dialect — very  difficult  to  decipher),  telling  her 
what  had  been  done  in  her  absence,  where  she  would 
find  certain  things,  or  advising  her  when  she  deemed 
it  necessary ;  and  her  advice  was  always  sound  and  to 
the  point. 

“Under  an  entire  change  in  medical  treatment — 
change  of  scene  and  air  and  the  use  of  animal  mag¬ 
netism  and  hypnotism — health  and  normal  conditions 
were  restored,  and  Twoey’s  visits  became  only  occa¬ 
sional,  under  circumstances  of  extreme  fatigue  or  mental 
excitement,  when  they  were  welcome  to  the  patient  and 
enjoyed  by  her  friends.  Two  years  later  the  patient 
married,  and  became  a  most  admirable  wife  and  intelli¬ 
gent  and  efficient  mistress  of  the  household. 

“  Later  on,  however,  the  No.  2  condition  or  personal- 


THE  DOUBLE  SELF. 


135 


ity  began  to  return  with  greater  frequency,  but  at 
length  one  night  4  Twoey  ’  announced  that  she  would 
soon  take  her  departure,  but  that  another  visitor  would 
come  to  take  her  place.  Presently  an  alarming  attack 
of  syncope  occurred,  lasting  several  hours ;  and  when 
consciousness  did  at  last  return,  it  was  represented  by  a 
third  personality,  entirely  new  and  entirely  distinct, 
both  from  the  primary  self  and  also  from  the  4  Twoey ’ 
with  whom  we  were  so  well  acquainted.  The  new  per¬ 
sonality  at  once  announced  itself  as  4  The  Boy,5  and 
that  it  had  come  in  the  place  of  4  Twoey  ’  for  the  spe¬ 
cial  aid  of  No.  1 ;  and  for  several  weeks,  whenever  this 
third  personality  was  present,  all  its  behaviour  was  en¬ 
tirely  consistent  with  that  announcement. 

44  Gradually,  however,  she  became  accustomed  and 
reconciled  to  her  new  role  and  new  surroundings,  and 
adapted  herself  with  most  astonishing  grace  to  the 
duties  of  wife,  mother,  and  mistress  of  the  house, 
though  always  when  closely  questioned  she  persisted 
seriously  in  her  original  declaration  that  she  was  4  The 
Boy.’  The  personality  was  of  much  more  broad  and 
serious  type  than  that  of  the  frolicsome  4  Twoey,’  and 
while  entirely  separate  in  consciousness  and  personality 
from  No.  1,  she  was  much  nearer  to  her  in  general 
outline  of  character.  The  acquired  book  knowledge 
of  No.  1 — the  Latin,  mathematics,  and  philosophy 
acquired  at  school — were  entirely  wanting  in  the  new 
personality ;  the  extensive  knowledge  of  general  litera¬ 
ture — the  whole  poems  of  Tennyson,  Browning,  and 
Scott  which  No.  1  could  repeat  by  heart,  also  her  per¬ 
fect  familiarity  with  the  most  beautiful  and  poetic  por¬ 
tions  of  the  Bible — all  these  were  entirely  lacking  in 
this  personality.  In  a  general  knowledge  of  affairs, 
however,  in  the  news  of  the  day  from  all  over  the 
10 


136 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  SUGGESTION. 


world,  and  in  current  literature,  she  at  once  became 
thoroughly  interested  and  thoroughly  intelligent,  and 
the  judgment  was  keen  and  sound.  She  took  the  great¬ 
est  delight  in  every  kind  of  amusement — the  theater  and 
literary  and  musical  entertainments — and  her  criticisms 
of  performances  and  of  books  were  independent,  acute, 
and  reliable.  At  the  same  time  her  household  affairs 
and  her  interest  in  them  and  all  subjects  pertaining  to 
the  family  were  conspicuous. 

“  Of  the  preceding  personalities  she  was  fully  cogni¬ 
zant,  and  had  great  admiration  and  affection  for  them 
both.  She  would  listen  to  no  disparaging  remarks 
concerning  ‘Twoey,’  and  her  admiration  for  No.  1 
was  unbounded.  Neither  Twoey  nor  No.  3  ever 
seemed  anxious  to  continue  and  prolong  their  visits,  but, 
on  the  contrary,  were  always  desirous  that  No.  1  should 
regain  her  health  sufficiently  to  get  on  without  them ; 
and  they  referred  with  much  feeling  to  the  causes 
which  prevented  it. 

“  The  peculiar  and  interesting  incidents  which  diver¬ 
sified  these  different  states  of  consciousness  would  fill  a 
volume.  No.  1,  when  in  her  condition  of  greatest 
weakness,  would  occasionally  astonish  her  listeners  by 
announcing  to  them  some  event  which  they  had  kept 
profoundly  secret  from  her.  For  instance :  ‘You  need 
not  be  so  quiet  about  it ;  I  have  seen  it  all.  Mrs.  C. 
died  the  day  before  yesterday.  She  is  to  be  buried 
to-morrow  ’ ;  or,  ‘  There  has  been  a  death  over  in  such 
and  such  a  street.  Who  is  ■  it  that  died  ?  ’  ‘  Two- 

ey’s  ’  sagacity,  amounting  almost  to  prevision,  was 
often  noticed,  and  many  a  time  the  neglect  to  be 
guided  by  her  premonitions  was  deeply  regretted. 
‘The  Boy,’  or  No.  3,  frequently  exhibited  peculiar 
perceptive  powers.  At  times  the  sense  of  hearing 


THE  DOUBLE  SELF. 


137 


would  be  entirely  lost,  so  that  the  most  violent  noises 
close  to  her  ears  and  when  perfectly  unexpected  failed 
to  startle  or  disturb  her  in  the  slightest  degree,  although 
usually  she  was  easily  startled  by  even  a  slight,  sudden, 
or  unexpected  noise.  Under  these  circumstances  she 
had  a  peculiar  faculty  of  perceiving  what  was  said  by 
watching  the  lips  of  the  speaker,  though  ordinarily 
neither  she  nor  the  primitive  self  had  any  such  faculty. 

“  In  this  condition  she  had  often  carried  on  conversa¬ 
tions  with  entire  strangers,  and  entertained  guests  at 
table  without  having  it  once  suspected  that  all  the 
while  she  could  not  hear  a  sound  of  any  sort.  I  have 
myself  seen  her  sit  and  attend  to  the  reading  of  a  new 
book  simply  by  watching  the  lips  of  the  reader,  taking 
in  every  word  and  sentiment,  and  laughing  heartily  at 
the  funny  passages,  when  I  am  perfectly  sure  she  could 
not  have  heard  a  pistol  shot  from  her  head. 

“When  the  Ho.  3  personality  had  persisted  for  a 
considerable  period — weeks,  for  instance,  at  a  time, 
as  it  has  sometimes  done — the  temporary  return  of 
Ho.  1  under  the  influence  of  some  soothing  condi¬ 
tion  or  pleasing  sentiment  or  emotion  has  been  beau¬ 
tiful  to  witness.  I  saw  this  transformation  once  while 
sitting  with  her  in  a  box  at  the  Metropolitan  Opera 
House.  Beethoven’s  concerto  in  C  Major  was  on  the 
programme ;  in  the  midst  of  the  performance  I  saw 
the  expression  of  her  countenance  change ;  a  clear, 
calm,  softened  look  came  into  the  face  as  she  leaned 
back  in  her  chair  and  listened  to  the  music  with  the 
most  intense  enjoyment.  I  spoke  a  few  words  to 
her  at  the  close  of  the  number,  and  she  replied  in  the 
soft  and  musical  tones  peculiar  to  her  own  normal  con¬ 
dition,  and  I  recognised  without  the  slightest  doubt  the 
presence  of  Ho.  1.  A  few  minutes  later  her  eyes 


138 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  SUGGESTION. 


closed ;  presently  she  drew  two  or  three  short,  quick 
respirations ;  again  her  countenance  changed,  and  No. 
3  was  hack  again.  She  turned  to  me  and  said,  ‘  So 
No.  1  came  to  hear  her  favourite  concerto  ?  ’  I  replied, 
‘  Yes  ;  how  did  you  know  it  V  ‘  Oh,  I  was  here  and 
listened  to  it  too.’  c  Where  were  you  ?  ’  I  asked.  ‘  I 
sat  on  the  front  of  the  box.  I  saw  you  speaking  to  her. 
How  greatly  she  enjoyed  the  music !  ’  and  then  she 
went  on  listening  to  the  music  and  commenting  upon  the 
programme  in  the  usual  discriminating  manner  of  No.  3.” 

In  this  interesting  case,  communicated  by  Dr.  Osgood 
Mason,  we  find  a  weakening  by  disease  of  the  upper 
controlling  personality,  the  subconscious  self  gained 
mastery,  rose  to  the  plane  of  conscious  individuality 
and  became  a  person,  a  “  Twoey.”  The  “  Twoey  ”  per¬ 
sonality,  however,  seemed  to  have  been  unstable,  and  a 
new  personality,  that  of  “  The  Boy,”  emerged.  Both 
“  Twoey  ”  and  “  The  Boy  ”  were  but  two  different  ex¬ 
pressions,  two  different  particular,  individualized  mani¬ 
festations  of  the  same  underlying  reality — the  subcon¬ 
sciousness.  It  was  from  the  depth  of  the  subconscious 
self  that  those  bubble  personalities  rose  to  the  surface 
of  conscious  life. 

As  a  rule,  the  stream  of  subwaking  consciousness  is 
broader  than  that  of  waking  consciousness,  so  that  the 
submerged  subwaking  self  knows  the  life  of  the  upper, 
primary,  waking  self,  but  the  latter  does  not  know  the 
former.  There  are,  however,  cases  on  record  that  show 
that  the  two  streams  may  flow  in  two  separate  channels, 
that  the  two  selves  may  be  totally  ignorant  of  each  other. 
The  subwaking  self,  in  attaining  self-consciousness, 
personality,  may  become  so  much  individualized  as  to 
lead  a  perfectly  independent  life  from  that  of  the  wak¬ 
ing  self.  And  when  the  lower  new  person  rises  to  the 


THE  DOUBLE  SELF. 


139 


surface  and  assumes  control  of  the  current  of  life,  he 
shows  no  signs  of  having  once  known  the  old  master, 
the  old  person.  An  interesting  case  of  this  kind  is 
given  by  Prof.  W.  James  in  his  Psychology,  and  fully 
described  by  Mr.  Hodgson  in  the  Proceedings  of  the 
Society  for  Psychical  Research  for  the  year  1891.  I 
quote  from  Prof.  W.  James’s  book :  * 

“  On  January  17,  1887,  Rev.  Ansel  Bourne,  of 
Greene,  R.  I.,  an  itinerant  preacher,  drew  five  hundred 
and  fifty-one  dollars  from  a  bank  in  Providence  with 
which  to  pay  for  a  certain  lot  of  land  in  Greene,  paid 
certain  bills,  and  got  into  a  Pawtucket  horse  car.  This 
is  the  last  incident  which  he  remembers.  He  did  not 
return  home  that  day.  He  was  published  in  the 
papers  as  missing,  and,  foul  play  being  suspected,  the 
police  sought  in  vain  his  whereabouts.  On  the  morn¬ 
ing  of  March  14th,  however,  at  Norristown,  Pa.,  a  man 
calling  himself  A.  J.  Brown,  who  had  rented  a  small 
shop  six  weeks  previously,  stocked  it  with  stationery, 
confectionery,  fruit,  and  small  articles,  and  carried  on 
this  quiet  trade  without  seeming  to  any  one  unnatural  or 
eccentric,  woke  up  in  a  fright  and  called  in  the  people 
of  the  house  to  tell  him  wdiere  he  was.  He  said  that 
his  name  was  Ansel  Bourne,  that  he  was  entirely  igno¬ 
rant  of  Norristown,  that  he  knew  nothing  of  shopkeep¬ 
ing,  and  that  the  last  thing  he  remembered — it  seemed 
only  yesterday — was  drawing  money  from  the  bank  in 
Providence.  He  would  not  believe  that  two  months 
had  elapsed.  The  people  of  the  house  thought  him  in¬ 
sane.  Soon  his  nephew  came  and  took  him  home. 
He  had  such  a  horror  of  the  candy  store  that  he  re¬ 
fused  to  set  foot  in  it  again. 


*  W.  James,  Psychology,  yoI.  i. 


140 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  SUGGESTION. 


“  The  first  two  weeks  of  the  period  remained  unac¬ 
counted  for,  as  he  had  no  memory,  after  he  had  re¬ 
sumed  his  normal  personality,  of  any  part  of  the  time, 
and  no  one  who  knew  him  seems  to  have  seen  him  after 
he  left  home.  The  remarkable  part  of  the  change  is,  of 
course,  the  peculiar  occupation  which  the  so-called 
Brown  indulged  in.  Mr.  Bourne  has  never  in  his  life 
had  the  slightest  contact  with  trade.  Brown  was  de¬ 
scribed  by  the  neighbours  as  taciturn,  orderly  in  his 
habits,  and  in  no  way  queer.  He  went  to  Philadelphia 
several  times ;  replenished  his  stock ;  cooked  for  him¬ 
self  in  the  back  shop,  where  he  also  slept ;  went  regu¬ 
larly  to  church ;  and  once  at  a  prayer-meeting  made 
what  was  considered  by  the  hearers  a  good  address,  in 
the  course  of  which  he  related  an  incident  he  had  wit¬ 
nessed  in  his  natural  state  of  Bourne. 

“  This  was  all  that  was  known  of  the  case  up  to 
June  1,  1890,  when  I  induced  Mr.  Bourne  to  submit  to 
hypnotism,  so  as  to  see  whether  in  the  hypnotic  trance 
his  Brown  memory  (Brown  self-consciousness)  would 
not  come  back.  It  did  so  with  surprising  readiness — so 
much  so,  indeed,  that  it  proved  quite  impossible  to  make 
him  while  in  hypnosis  remember  any  of  the  facts  of  his 
normal  life.  He  had  heard  of  Ansel  Bourne,  ‘  but  did 
not  know  as  he  had  ever  met  the  man.’  When  con¬ 
fronted  with  Mrs.  Bourne,  he  said  that  he  had  never 
seen  the  woman  before.  On  the  other  hand,  he  told 
us  of  his  peregrinations  during  the  last  fortnight,  and 
gave  all  sorts  of  details  during  the  Norristown  episode. 
.  .  .  I  had  hoped  by  suggestion  to  run  the  two  person¬ 
alities  into  one,  and  make  the  memories  continuous, 
but  no  artifice  would  avail  to  accomplish  this ,  and  Mr. 
Bourne’s  skull  to-day  still  covers  two  distinct  personal 
selves .” 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

THE  INTERRELATION  OF  THE  TWO  SELVES. 

The  phenomena  of  abnormal  states  reviewed  t>y 
us  clearly  reveal  the  presence  of  a  subwaking  self 
below  the  threshold  of  the  waking  self-conscious¬ 
ness.  Turning  now  to  a  different  class  of  phenomena, 
we  find  still  further  confirmation  of  the  same  truth. 
There  is  a  great  class  of  phenomena  in  which  the  sub¬ 
waking  self  is  brought  to  the  light  of  day,  but  so  as 
not  to  suppress  the  primary  self.  The  two  streams 
of  consciousness  run  parallel  to  each  other,  the  two 
selves  coexist.  The  primary  personality  enters  into 
direct  intercourse  with  the  risen  lower,  subwaking  self. 
The  phenomena  I  mean  here  are  those  of  automatic 
writing. 

Usually,  as  the  automatic  writer  begins  his  practice 
on  the  planchette,  the  pencil  brings  out  but  mere 
scrawls  and  scratches ;  but  as  the  practice  continues, 
letters,  figures,  words,  phrases,  and  even  whole  dis¬ 
courses,  flow  from  under  the  automatic  pencil.  It  takes 
some  time  before  there  occurs  a  cleavage  between  the 
subwaking  self  and  the  waking  personality.  Gradu¬ 
ally  the  subwaking  self  rouses  itself  from  its  trance,  be¬ 
gins  to  bring  out  latent  memories,  starts  to  lisp,  attempts 
to  think  coherently,  gathers  more  intelligence  and  rea¬ 
son,  attains  even  some  degree  of  self-consciousness, 

141 


142 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  SUGGESTION. 


gives  itself  a  name,  becomes  at  times  eloquent,  pouring 
forth  flat  discourses  on  metaphysics  and  religion. 

To  induce  the  first  stages  of  automatic  writing  the 
same  conditions  are  requisite  as  those  of  normal  sug¬ 
gestibility.  The  subject  starting  his  first  lesson  in  auto* 
matic  writing  must  strongly  concentrate  his  attention 
on  some  letter,  figure,  or  word ;  he  must  distract  his 
attention  from  what  is  going  on  in  his  hand  ;  he  must 
be  in  a  monotonous  environment ;  he  must  not  be  dis¬ 
turbed  by  a  variety  of  incoming  sense  impressions  ;  he 
must  keep  quiet,  thus  limiting  his  voluntary  move¬ 
ments  ;  his  field  of  consciousness  must  be  contracted  / 
no  other  ideas  but  the  requisite  ones  should  be  present 
in  the  mind ;  and  if  other  ideas  and  images  do  enter 
his  mind,  they  must  be  inhibited.  These  conditions,  as 
we  know,  are  favourable  to  dissociation,  disaggregation 
of  consciousness.  In  the  phenomena  of  automatic  writ¬ 
ing  we  have  a  disaggregation  of  consciousness — the 
secondary  subwaking  consciousness  is  severed  from  the 
primary,  waking  self-consciousness.  Both  selves  coex¬ 
ist;  one  does  not  interfere  with  the  freedom  of  the 
other.  Once  the  cleavage  is  accomplished  the  further 
observance  of  the  conditions  is,  of  course,  superfluous 
— the  phenomena  of  automatic  writing  manifest  them¬ 
selves  freely,  the  subwaking  self  cheerfully  discourses 
on  all  sorts  of  subjects  whenever  it  is  in  the  mood,  and 
as  long  as  it  continues  its  independent  life. 

There  are,  of  course,  different  stages  of  cleavage. 
The  incipient  stage  of  automatic  writing  is  described 
by  Mr.  P.  Myers  in  the  Proceedings  of  the  Society  for 
Psychical  Research.*  The  account  is  given  by  Mr.  H. 
Arthur  Smith :  “  I  think  I  have  observed  that  when 


*  November,  1884. 


THE  INTERRELATION  OF  THE  TWO  SELVES.  143 

mv  hand  was  on  it  [on  the  planchette],  the  wrist  being 
grasped  by  the  other  hand,  a  word  on  which  I  concen¬ 
trated  my  attention  was  written  without  any  conscious 
volitional  effort.  I  am  doubtful  as  to  this,  as  it  is  a 
difficult  thing  to  be  sure  of  the  absence  of  volition,  but 
such  is  my  decided  impression.”  The  cleavage  here 
between  the  two  selves  was  faint,  shadowy ;  nothing 
further  occurred. 

Then,  again,  we  have  the  case  (given  by  Mr.  F. 
Myers  in  the  Proceedings  of  the  Society  for  Psychical 
Research,  November,  1884)  of  Mr.  A.,  who  can  write 
words  by  mere  attention  (fixation),  without  any  muscu¬ 
lar  effort  whatever.  He  fixes  his  mind  on  a  word,  and 
his  hand  writes  it  with  an  involuntary  spasm,  while  he 
is  studiously  avoiding  all  intentional  impulse. 

A  case  of  a  more  advanced  stage  of  automatic  writ¬ 
ing  is  given  in  the  Psychological  Review  for  July,  1895. 
The  subject  knows  beforehand  what  the  hand  is  going 
to  write,  and  he  is  not  quite  sure  from  whom  the  writ¬ 
ing  proceeds,  whether  from  himself  or  from  some 
“  other.”  The  cleavage  is  incomplete,  partial. 

The  highest  stage  of  cleavage,  when  the  subwaking 
6elf  gathers  round  its  being  masses  of  intelligence  and 
discourses  on  philosophical  and  religious  questions,  may 
be  well  illustrated  by  a  very  interesting  and  very  in¬ 
structive  case  of  automatic  writing  given  by  Prof.  W. 
James  in  his  Psychology  : 

“  Some  of  it  [automatic  writing],”  writes  Mr.  Sid¬ 
ney  Dean  to  Prof.  W.  J ames,  “  is  in  hieroglyph  or 
strange  compounded  arbitrary  characters,  each  series 
possessing  a  seeming  unity  in  general  design  or  charac¬ 
ter,  followed  by  what  purports  to  be  a  translation  or 
rendering  into  mother  English.  I  never  attempted  the 
seemingly  impossible  feat  of  copying  the  characters. 


144 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  SUGGESTION. 


They  were  cut  with  the  precision  of  a  graver’s  tool,  and 
generally  with  a  single  rapid  stroke  of  the  pencil.  .  .  . 
When  the  work  is  in  progress  I  am  in  the  normal  con¬ 
dition,  and  seemingly  two  minds,  intelligences,  persons, 
are  practically  engaged.  The  writing  is  in  my  own 
hand,  but  the  dictation  not  of  my  own  mind  and  will , 
but  that  of  another,  upon  subjects  of  which  I  can  have 
no  knowledge,  and  hardly  a  theory  ;  and  I  myself  con¬ 
sciously  criticise  the  thought,  fact,  mode  of  expressing 
it,  etc.,  while  the  hand  is  recording  the  subject-matter, 
and  even  the  words  impressed  to  be  written.  .  .  . 

“  Sentences  are  commenced  without  knowledge  of 
mine  as  to  their  subject  or  ending. 

“  There  is  in  progress  now  at  uncertain  times,  not 
subject  to  my  will,  a  series  of  twenty- four  chapters  upon 
the  scientific  features  of  life,  moral,  spiritual,  eternal. 
Seven  have  already  been  written  in  the  manner  indi¬ 
cated.  These  were  preceded  by  twenty -four  chapters 
relating  generally  to  the  life  beyond  material  death,  its 
characteristics,  etc.  Each  chapter  is  signed  by  the  name 
of  some  person  who  has  lived  on  earth,  some  with  whom 
I  have  been  personally  acquainted,  others  known  in 
history.  ...  I  know  nothing  of  the  alleged  authorship 
of  any  chapter  until  it  is  completed  and  the  name  im¬ 
pressed  and  appended.  I  am  interested  not  only  in  the 
reputed  authorship — of  which  I  have  nothing  corrobora¬ 
tive — but  in  the  philosophy,  thought,  of  which  I  was  in 
ignorance  until  these  chapters  appeared.  It  is  an  intel¬ 
ligent  ego  that  writes,  or  else  the  influence  assumes  in¬ 
dividuality,  which  practically  makes  the  influence  a 
personality.  It  is  not  myself ;  of  that  I  am  conscious 
at  every  step  of  the  process.” 

When  the  cleavage  of  the  two  selves  from  each 
other  occurs,  and  the  subwaking  self  begins  to  express 


THE  INTERRELATION  OF  THE  TWO  SELVES.  145 


himself  and  gets  into  possession  of  some  organ  which 
was  before  under  the  control  of  the  waking  personality, 
this  organ  becomes  anaesthetic.  The  upper  waking  self 
does  not  get  any  more  the  peripheral  sense  impressions 
coming  from  that  organ.  It  is  now  the  subwaking  self 
who  possesses  himself  of  these  sense  impressions  and 
becomes  conscious  of  them.  The  secondary  self  may 
extend  its  range  of  activity  in  its  intercourse  with  the 
external  world ;  it  may  go  on  enriching  itself  with  the 
spoils  got  by  plundering  the  waking  self.  Amaurosis, 
hysterical  anaesthesia,  and  analgesia  are  facts  in  point. 
Anaesthesia  is  found  not  only  in  hysteria,  but  also  in 
such  cases  in  which  the  cleavage  is  but  transitory,  and 
the  possession  of  the  organ  into  which  the  subwaking 
self  comes  is  but  momentary.  Such  anaesthesia  is,  of 
course,  fugitive,  and  lasts  only  as  long  as  the  organ  is 
possessed  or  obsessed  by  the  subwaking  self.  Prof.  W. 
James  beautifully  demonstrated  this  truth  in  the  case 
of  automatic  writing  :  * 

“  William  L.  Smith,  student  at  the  Massachusetts 
Institute  of  Technology,  aged  twenty-one,  perfectly 
healthy  and  exceptionally  intelligent,  ...  sat  with  Mr. 
Hodgson  and  myself,  January  24,  1889,  with  his  right 
hand  extended  on  the  instrument  [planchette],  and  his 
face  averted  and  buried  in  the  hollow  of  his  left  arm, 
which  lay  along  the  table.  Care  was  taken  not  to  sug¬ 
gest  to  him  the  aim  of  the  inquiry  (i.  e.,  to  test  for 
anaesthesia  induced  in  healthy  subjects  by  the  mere  act 
of  automatic  writing). 

“  The  planchette  began  by  illegible  scrawling.  After 
ten  minutes  I  pricked  the  back  of  the  right  hand  several 


*  Proceedings  of  the  American  Society  for  Psychological  Research, 
vol.  i. 


146 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  SUGGESTION. 


times  with  a  pin ;  no  indication  of  feeling.  Two  pricks 
on  the  left  hand  were  followed  by  withdrawal,  and  the 
question,  4  What  did  you  do  that  for  ?  ’  to  which  I  re¬ 
plied,  4  To  find  whether  you  were  going  to  sleep.’  The 
first  legible  words  which  were  written  after  this  were 
4  You  hurt  me.’  .  .  .  After  some  more  or  less  illegible 
writing  I  pricked  the  right  wrist  and  fingers  several 
times  again  quite  severely,  with  no  sign  of  reaction  on 
S.’s  part.  After  an  interval,  however,  the  pencil 
wrote,  4  Don’t  you  prick  me  any  more.’  S.  then  said, 

4  My  right  hand  is  pretty  well  asleep.’  I  tested  the 
two  hands  immediately  by  pinching  and  pricking,  hut 
found  no  difference  between  them,  both  apparently 
normal.  S.  then  said  that  what  he  meant  by  4  asleep  ’ 
was  the  feeling  of  4  pins  and  needles  ’  which  an  insensi¬ 
ble  limb  has  when  4  waking  up.’ 

44  The  last  written  sentence  was  then  deciphered 
aloud.  S.  laughed,  having  become  conscious  only  of 
the  pricks  on  his  left  hand,  and  said,  4  It  is  working 
those  two  pin  pricks  for  all  they  are  worth.’  I  then 
asked, 

44  4  What  have  I  been  excited  about  to-day  ?  ’ 

44  4  May  be  correct,  do  not  know,  possibly  sleep¬ 
ing.’ 

44  4  What  do  you  mean  by  sleeping  ?  ’ 

44  4  1  do  not  know.  You  |  (the  subject’s  right  hand 
made  this  figure  evidently  to  indicate  pricking)  me  19, 
and  think  I’ll  write  for  you.’  ” 

We  find  here  local  anaesthesia  induced  in  the  hand 
possessed  or  obsessed  temporarily  by  the  subpersonal 
self.  And  when,  on  a  later  day,  the  pencil  was  placed 
in  the  left  hand  instead  of  the  right,  the  left  hand  took 
up  the  memories  of  the  right  hand’s  previous  pains. 
No  wonder  the  memory  was  the  same,  for  it  was  the 


THE  INTERRELATION  OF  THE  TWO  SELVES.  147 

same  subwaking  self  possessed  or  obsessed  of  different 
organs.  The  last  experiment  may  be  regarded  as  an 
experimentum  crucis  of  the  significant  truth  that  what 
the  subwaking  self  obsesses  of  that  the  waking  self  is 
deprived.  The  latter  may,  however,  be  informed  of 
the  particular  experience  by  reading  the  automatic 
writing,  or  by  gazing  into  a  crystal.  Once  the  cleavage 
occurred,  we  may  say  that,  as  a  rule,  the  growth ,  the 
development  of  the  individualized  subwaking  self  is  in 
inverse  ratio  to  that  of  the  waking  consciousness . 


CHAPTER  XI V. 


SUBCONSCIOUS  SENSE-PERCEPTION  IN  THE  WAKING  STATE. 

Thus  far  we  have  dealt  with  such  uncanny  abnormal 
states  as  hysteria,  hypnosis,  automatism.  We  saw  in 
them  the  manifestation  of  the  split-off  secondary  self, 
and  we  also  hinted  at  the  relation  the  latter  bears  to 
the  waking  self. 

Is  there  any  direct  evidence  of  the  presence  of  the 
subwaking  self  in  the  normal  state  of  perfectly  healthy 
individuals  ?  Yes,  there  is,  and  very  strong  evidence, 
too.  Once  more  I  turn  to  hypnosis,  but  this  time  not 
as  showing  the  cleavage  that  occurs  in  that  state,  but 
rather  as  pointing  out  the  plane  of  cleavage,  the  pres¬ 
ence  of  a  subwaking  self  when  the  individual  is  in  his 
normal  state. 

The  subwaking  hypnotic  self  surpasses  the  waking 
self  in  its  sensitiveness ;  its  range  of  sensibility  extends 
farther  than  that  of  the  upper  personality.  The  senses 
of  touch,  pressure,  and  temperature  are  much  more 
delicate  in  the  hypnotic  condition.  The  sesthesiometer 
showed  in  Mr.  J.  F.,  one  of  my  subjects,  when  in  nor¬ 
mal  state,  the  sensibility  of  the  skin  on  the  forehead  to 
be  eighteen  millimetres,  while  the  same  in  hypnosis 
(slight  degree)  was  but  fourteen  millimetres.  The  sen¬ 
sibility  of  Mr.  A.  F.  in  normal  state  was  fourteen  milli¬ 
metres,  while  in  hypnosis  (falls  into  the  deepest  state)  it 

148 


SUBCONSCIOUS  SENSE-PERCEPTION. 


149 


was  eight  millimetres.  Mr.  D.  W.  showed  a  sensibility 
in  the  normal  state  fourteen  millimetres,  but  when  in 
hypnosis  (falls  into  the  deepest  state)  it  was  eight  mil¬ 
limetres. 

“It  is  quite  certain,”  writes  Braid,*  “that  some 
patients  can  tell  the  shape  of  what  is  held  an  inch  and 
a  half  from  the  skin  on  the  back  of  the  neck,  crown  of 
the  head,  arm,  or  hand,  or  other  parts  of  the  body,  the 
extremely  exalted  sensibility  of  the  skin  enabling  them 
to  discern  the  shape  of  the  object  so  presented  from 
its  tendency  to  emit  or  absorb  caloric.  ...  A  patient 
could  feel  and  obey  the  motion  of  a  glass  funnel  passed 
through  the  air  at  a  distance  oi  fifteen  f eet.” 

The  entranced  subject  is  able  to  walk  freely  about 
the  room  with  bandaged  eyes  or  in  absolute  darkness 
without  striking  against  anything,  because,  as  Moll, 
Braid,  Poirault,  and  Drjevetzky  point  out,  he  recog¬ 
nises  objects  by  the  resistance  of  the  air  and  by  the 
alteration  of  temperature. 

We  find  in  the  hypnotic  subject  hypersesthesia  of 
vision,  of  hearing,  and  of  smell. 

One  can  not  help  being  struck  by  the  great 
acuteness  of  the  sense  of  hearing  in  hypnotic  trance. 
To  give  an  example.  While  Mr.  W.  was  in  a  state  of 
hypnosis  Mr.  G.  whispered  in  my  ear,  “  Six  o’clock.”  I 
scarcely  could  hear  the  whisper.  I  then  turned  to  Mr. 
W.  and  asked  him  whether  he  heard  what  Mr.  G.  said. 
“  Yes,”  he  answered,  “  Mr.  G.  said  ‘  Six  o’clock.’  ” 

To  prove  visual  hypersesthesia  in  my  subject,  A.  F.,  I 
gave  him  a  book  to  read  while  he  was  in  hypnotic  trance 
and  his  eyes  were  closed.  “  Read !  ”  I  commanded. 
“  I  can  not,”  he  answered.  “  Yes,  you  can ;  you  must 


*  Braid,  Neurypnology. 


150 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  SUGGESTION. 


read.  Try !  ”  He  began  to  read.  So  miraculous 
seemed  this  experiment  that  one  of  the  gentlemen 
present  exclaimed,  “How  I  believe  in  hypnotism !  ” 
The  fact,  however,  really  was  that  Mr.  A.  F.  raised  his 
eyelids,  but  so  slightly,  so  imperceptibly,  that  no  one  of 
the  people  present  could  notice  it,  and  even  I  myself 
am  not  quite  sure  I  saw  it  clearly  ;  I  only  suspected 
it  was  so.  However  the  case  might  have  been,  it  was 
altogether  impossible  for  any  one  in  his  normal  state  to 
read  under  similar  conditions  of  closure  of  the  eyelids. 

An  extraordinary  example  of  visual  hypersesthesia 
is  brought  by  Bergson,  whose  subject  could  read  the 
image  of  a  page  reflected  in  the  experimenter’s  cornea. 
The  same  subject  could  discriminate  with  the  naked 
eye  details  in  a  microscopic  preparation.  “  The  ordi¬ 
nary  test  of  visual  hyperacuteness*  in  hypnotism,” 
writes  Prof.  W.  James,  “is  the  favourite  trick  of  giv¬ 
ing  a  subject  the  hallucination  of  a  picture  on  a  blank 
sheet  of  cardboard  and  then  mixing  the  latter  with  a 
lot  of  similar  sheets.  The  subject  will  always  find  the 
picture  on  the  original  sheet  again  and  recognise  in¬ 
fallibly  if  it  has  been  turned  over  or  upside  down, 
although  the  bystanders  have  to  resort  to  artifice  to 
identify  it  again.  The  subject  notes  peculiarities  on  the 
card  too  small  for  waking  observation  to  detect.”  The 
experiment  may  be  made  in  a  far  simpler  manner :  A 
blank  sheet  of  cardboard  is  given  to  the  subject,  and 
instead  of  giving  him  a  hallucination,  a  thing  not  very 
easy  to  do  with  many  subjects,  as  they  often  do  not 
realize  the  suggested  hallucination,  the  subject  is  simply 
asked  to  take  good  notice  of  the  card.  The  card  is  then 
mixed  with  other  similar  sheets.  The  subject  invaria- 


*  James,  Psychology,  vol.  ii. 


SUBCONSCIOUS  SENSE-PERCEPTION. 


151 


bly  picks  out  the  sheet  shown  to  him.  I  have  repeat¬ 
edly  made  these  experiments  on  my  subjects. 

The  same  holds  true  in  the  case  of  smell.  There  is 
an  exaltation  of  this  sense  in  hypnosis.  Braid’s  subject 
restored  articles  to  the  rightful  owners,  finding  the  lat¬ 
ter  out  by  mere  smell.  “  They  [the  subjects],”  writes 
Braid,*  “began  sniffing,  and  traced  out  the  parties 
robbed  and  restored  it  [the  article]  to  them.  On  being 
asked,  6  Row  do  you  know  the  person  ?  ’  the  answer 
was,  ‘  I  smell  them  [or  him].’  Every  time  the  experi¬ 
ment  was  tried  the  result  was  the  same  and  the  answer 
the  same.” 

Carpenter,  in  his  Mental  Physiology,  tells  of  a  youth 
who  in  hypnosis  could  “  find  out  by  the  sense  of  smell 
the  owner  of  a  glove  which  was  placed  in  his  hand  from 
among  a  party  of  more  than  sixty  persons,  scenting  at 
each  of  them,  one  after  the  other,  until  he  came  to  the 
right  individual.  In  another  case  the  owner  of  a  ring 
was  unhesitatingly  found  from  among  a  company  of 
twelve,  the  ring  having  been  withdrawn  before  the 
somnambule  was  introduced.” 

In  short,  the  range  of  sensibility  of  the  hypnotic  sub¬ 
waking  consciousness  is  wider  than  that  of  the  waking 
self. 

Row,  if  this  subpersonal,  subwaking  hypnotic  self  is 
present  in  the  normal  state,  we  ought  to  find  that  sen¬ 
sory  impressions,  which  on  account  of  their  faintness  or 
indistinctness  did  not  reach  the  waking  self,  were  still 
perceived  by  the  sub  waking  self.  With  this  view  in 
hand  I  made  the  following  experiment : 

I  placed  Mr.  L.  and  Mr.  P.  at  such  a  distance  that 
they  could  not  hear  my  whisper.  Although  Mr.  L.  is 


11 


*  Braid,  Neurypnology. 


152 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  SUGGESTION. 


an  intimate  friend  of  mine,  on  whose  honesty  I  can 
fully  rely,  still,  for  the  sake  of  having  the  experiment 
carried  out  in  a  rigorous  fashion,  I  placed  near  him 
Mr.  P.,  whose  ear  was  far  more  acute  than  that  of  Mr. 
L.,  in  order  to  testify  that  nothing  could  be  heard  at 
such  a  distance.  I  then  whispered  in  the  ear  of  Mr.  G. 
the  following  words :  “  The  Subliminal  Consciousness, 
by  Mr.  Myers.”  I  repeated  this  phrase  five  times  in 
succession  in  the  same  whisper,  asking  each  time  of 
Mr.  L.  and  Mr.  P.  whether  they  had  heard  anything. 
The  reply  was  “  No ;  nothing.”  They  strained  their 
ears,  but  could  not  perceive  any  words  except  an  indis¬ 
tinct  whisper.  I  then  hypnotized  Mr.  L.,  who  fell  into 
a  slight  hypnosis  (Mr.  P.  could  not  be  hypnotized ;  it 
was  the  first  seance  in  which  he  took  part),  and  asked 
him  to  tell  what  he  had  heard.  “  I  did  not  hear  any¬ 
thing.”  “  Try  hard,  and  you  will  be  able  to  tell,”  I 
commanded  him.  “  I  heard  only  a  certain  rhythm  in 
your  whisper,  and  that  was  all.”  “  Well,  then,  guess !  ” 
“  I  can  not.”  “  But  you  must !  ”  “I  think  you  said 

‘  My - ”  “  "What  more  ?  Go  on !  ”  I  urged  him.  “  I 

think  you  said  ‘  consciousness.5  55  “  Go  on  1 55  “I  think 
you  said  6  sub.5  55 

“ Several  friends,55  writes  Max  Dessoir,  “were  in 
my  room,  one  of  whom,  Mr.  W.,  was  reading  to  him¬ 
self,  while  the  rest  of  us  were  talking  with  one  another. 
Some  one  happening  to  mention  the  name  of  Mr.  X., 
in  whom  Mr.  W.  is  much  interested,  Mr.  W.  raised 
his  head  and  asked,  6  What  was  that  about  Mr.  X.  ? 5 
He  knew  nothing  he  told  us  about  our  previous  conver¬ 
sation  ;  he  had  only  heard  the  familiar  name,  as  often 
happens.  I  then  hypnotized  him,  with  his  consent, 
and  when  he  was  pretty  deeply  entranced  I  asked  him 
again  as  to  the  conversation.  To  our  great  astonish- 


SUBCONSCIOUS  SENSE-PERCEPTION. 


153 


ment,  he  now  repeated  to  us  the  substance  of  our  whole 
conversation  during  the  time  that  he  was  reading  to 
himself.” 

Similar  experiments  I  performed  on  A.  Fingold. 
The  subject,  when  in  the  state  of  hypnosis,  gave  me 
details  of  a  conversation  which  he  could  not  have  pos¬ 
sibly  overheard  consciously ,  and  of  which  he  knew 
nothing  at  all  in  his  previous  waking  state. 

The  subwaking  self,  not  being  occupied  with  the 
work  that  engaged  the  attention  of  the  upper  con¬ 
sciousness,  was  on  the  alert,  and  listened  to  the  conver¬ 
sation,  which  escaped  the  fixed  and  distracted  attention 
of  the  waking  personality. 

It  is  clear,  then,  that  the  sub  waking  hypnotic  self  is 
present  in  the  normal  state  and  can  hear  and  guess 
that  of  which  the  waking  self  has  no  inkling. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

THE  SUBCONSCIOUS  SELF  AND  HALLUCINATIONS. 

Turning  now  to  the  interesting  phenomena  of  crys¬ 
tal-gazing  we  meet  with  facts  of  like  nature  proving 
the  same  truth. 

“  I  find  in  the  crystal,”  writes  a  crystal-gazer,*  “  a 
hit  of  dark  wall  covered  with  jessamine,  and  I  ask  my¬ 
self,  Where  have  I  walked  to-day  ?  I  have  no  recollec¬ 
tion  of  such  a  sight — not  a  common  one  in  the  London 
streets ;  but  to-morrow  I  repeat  my  walk  of  this  morn¬ 
ing,  with  a  careful  regard  for  the  creeper-covered  walls. 
To-morrow  solves  the  mystery.  I  find  the  very  spot, 
and  the  sight  brings  with  it  the  further  recollection  that 
at  the  moment  we  passed  the  spot  I  was  engaged  in  ab¬ 
sorbing  conversation  with  my  companion,  and  my  vol¬ 
untary  attention  was  preoccupied. 

“  On  March  9  I  saw  in  the  crystal  a  rocky  coast,  a 
rough  sea,  an  expanse  of  sand  in  the  foreground.  As 
I  watched,  the  picture  was  nearly  effaced  by  that  of  a 
mouse.  .  .  .  Two  days  later  I  was  reading  a  volume  of 
poetry  which  I  remembered  having  cut  open,  talking 
the  while,  certainly  not  consciously  reading.  As  I 
turned  over  the  leaves  a  couple  of  lines  struck  me : 

Only  the  sea  intoning, 

Only  the  wainscot  mouse.” 


*  Proceedings  of  the  Society  for  Psychical  Research,  May,  1889. 

154 


SUBCONSCIOUS  SELF  AND  HALLUCINATIONS.  155 


The  same  automatic  writer  looked  in  the  crystal 
and  saw  a  “  newspaper  announcement.  It  reported 
the  death  of  a  lady  at  one  time  a  very  frequent  -visitor 
in  my  circle  and  very  intimate  with  some  of  my  near¬ 
est  friends ;  an  announcement,  therefore,  which,  had  I 
consciously  seen  it,  would  have  interested  me  consider¬ 
ably.  I  related  my  vision  at  breakfast,  quoting  name, 
date,  place,  and  an  allusion  to  4  a  long  period  of  suffer¬ 
ing  ’  borne  by  the  deceased  lady,  and  added  that  I  was 
sure  that  I  had  not  heard  any  report  of  her  illness,  or 
even  for  some  months  any  mention  of  her  likely  to 
suggest  such  an  hallucination.  I  was,  however,  aware 
that  I  had  the  day  before  taken  the  first  sheet  of  the 
Times,  but  was  interrupted  before  I  had  consciously 
read  any  announcement  of  death.  Mrs.  H.  Sidgwick 
immediately  sought  for  the  paper,  when  we  discovered 
the  paragraph  almost  exactly  as  I  had  seen  it.” 

In  his  article,  Some  Experiments  in  Crystal  Yision, 
Prof.  James  H.  Hyslop,  of  Columbia  College,*  reports 
the  case  of  Mrs.  D.,  44  who  used  to  have  a  visual  hallu¬ 
cination  (in  the  crystal)  of  a  bright-blue  sky  overhead,  a 
garden  with  a  high-walled  fence,  and  a  peculiar  chain 
pump  in  the  garden  situated  at  the  back  of  a  house.  She 
attached  no  significance  to  it,  but  took  it  for  one  of  the 
many  automatisms  in  her  experience  which  were  without 
assignable  meaning  to  her.  But  two  summers  ago  she 
had  gone  West,  to  her  old  home  in  D.,  Ohio,  and  made 
the  acquaintance  of  a  lady  whom  she  had  never  known 
before,  and  by  chance  was  invited  to  take  tea  with  her 
one  evening.  She  went,  and  after  tea  remarked  that 
she  would  like  to  have  a  drink  of  water.  The  lady  of 
the  house  remarked  :  4  All  right ;  let  us  go  out  into  the 
garden  and  get  a  fresh  drink  from  the  well.’  They 


*  Proceedings  of  the  Society  for  Psychical  Research,  December,  1896. 


156 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  SUGGESTION. 


went,  and,  behold,  there  was  the  identical  blue  sky,  high 
fence,  and  chain  pump  which  she  had  so  often  seen  in  her 
vision !  After  going  home  in  the  evening  Mrs.  D.  told 
her  mother  of  her  experience,  remarking  how  strange 
it  was.  Her  mother  replied  that  when  Mrs.  D.  was  a 
little  girl  about  two  or  three  years  old  she  used  to  visit 
this  house  very  frequently  with  her  mother.” 

Prof.  James  relates  the  case  of  a  Cambridge  lady 
who  happened  to  misplace  a  valuable  set  of  silver 
knives.  She  searched  everywhere,  but  could  not  dis¬ 
cover  its  whereabouts.  Having  heard  of  crystal-gazing, 
the  lady  thought  she  might  as  well  try  it.  She  pro¬ 
cured  a  crystal  and  looked  into  it  for  a  few  minutes. 
Something  appeared  at  the  bottom  of  the  crystal ;  grad¬ 
ually  the  image  took  the  shape  of  a  box 
with  straight  objects  lying  in  it  diagonal - 
ly.  The  image  had  the  following  shape : 

Presently  she  found  herself  taking  a 
chair,  mounting  it,  and  reaching  out  her  hand  for  a 
top  closet.  There  was  the  realization  of  her  visual 
hallucination — there  was  the  box,  and  inside  it  the  set 
of  knives  placed  diagonally. 

“  I  saw  in  the  crystal,”  writes  another  crystal-gazer,* 
“  a  young  girl,  an  intimate  friend,  waving  to  me  from 
her  carriage.  I  observed  that  her  hair,  which  had 
hung  down  her  back  when  I  last  saw  her,  was  now  put 
up  in  young-lady  fashion.  Most  certainly  I  had  not 
consciously  seen  even  the  carriage.  Hext  day  I  called 
on  my  friend,  was  reproached  by  her  for  not  observing 
her  as  she  passed,  and  perceived  that  she  had  altered 
her  hair  in  the  way  which  the  crystal  had  shown. 

“I  was  writing  at  an  open  window  and  became 

*  Myers,  The  Subliminal  Self,  Proceedings  of  the  Society  for 
Psychical  Research,  vol.  viii. 


SUBCONSCIOUS  SELF  AND  HALLUCINATIONS.  157 


aware  that  an  elderly  relative  inside  the  room  had  said 
something  to  me ;  but  the  noise  of  the  street  pre¬ 
vented  my  asking  what  had  been  said.  My  ink  began 
to  run  low,  and  I  took  up  the  inkstand  to  tip  it.  Look¬ 
ing  into  the  ink  I  saw  a  white  florist’s  parcel  as  though 
reflected  on  its  surface.  Going  into  another  room,  I 
there  found  the  parcel  in  question,  of  which  I  had  had 
no  knowledge.  I  returned  carrying  it,  and  was  greeted 
with  the  remark :  ‘I  told  you  half  an  hour  ago  to  at¬ 
tend  to  those  flowers  ;  they  will  all  be  dead.’ 

“  I  looked  across  the  room  this  morning  to  a  distant 
table,  where  I  expected  to  see  a  book  I  wanted.  It 
was  not  there,  but  my  eye  was  caught  by  another  book, 
which  I  saw  was  strange  to  me.  I  tried,  but  could  not 
read  the  title  at  that  distance  (I  have  since  proved  that, 
even  now  I  know  it,  this  is  impossible),  and  turned 
away  to  resume  my  writing.  On  my  blank  paper,  as  in 
a  crystal  scene,  I  read  4  The  Yalley  of  Lilies,’  which  I 
found  to  be  the  title  of  the  book.  I  have  no  recollec¬ 
tion  of  ever  seeing  the  book  before.” 

The  phenomena  of  shell -hearing  belong  to  the  same 
class  of  facts  with  those  of  crystal-gazing.  The  shell 
often  reports  to  its  listener  facts  and  conversations  that 
have  escaped  the  latter’s  attention.  “  The  shell,”  writes 
a  shell-hearer,  “  is  more  likely  after  a  dinner  party  to 
repeat  the  conversation  of  my  neighbour  on  the  right 
than  that  of  my  lawful  interlocutor  on  the  left.”  * 

blow  all  these  facts  of  crystal-gazing  and  shell -hear¬ 
ing  clearly  reveal  the  presence  of  a  secondary,  sub¬ 
merged,  hypergesthetic  consciousness  that  sees,  hears, 
and  perceives  what  lies  outside  the  range  of  perception 
of  the  primary  personal  self. 

*  Myers,  The  Subliminal  Consciousness,  Proceedings  of  the  So¬ 
ciety  for  Psychical  Research,  vol.  yiii. 


CHAPTER  XYI. 


THE  SUBWAKING  SELF  AND  THE  NORMAL  INDIVIDUAL. 

The  subwaking  self  gets  manifested  in  automatic 
writing,  crystal-gazing,  and  hypnosis,  but  these  phe¬ 
nomena  do  not  occur  in  everyone.  To  prove,  there¬ 
fore,  fully  our  proposition  that  the  secondary  self  is 
part  and  parcel  of  our  normal  state,  we  must  make  ex¬ 
periments  on  perfectly  healthy  and  normal  subjects  who 
never  dealt  in  crystal-gazing,  shell -hearing,  automatic 
writing,  nor  were  they  ever  put  into  the  state  of  hyp¬ 
nosis.  I  made  three  thousand  laboratory  experiments, 
eight  hundred  of  which  I  made  on  myself  and  two  thou¬ 
sand  two  hundred  on  fifty  subjects,  and  the  results  gave 
direct  and  conclusive  proof  of  the  presence  of  the  sub¬ 
waking,  subpersonal,  hyperaesthetic  self  in  our  normal 
state.  Since  the  results  of  my  experiments  tell  us  of  the 
subwaking  consciousness  something  more  than  its  mere 
bare  presence,  I  reserve  the  account  of  them  for  the 
next  chapter,  where  the  discussion  of  them  will  be  more 
appropriate.  Meanwhile  the  experiments  of  Binet  will 
fully  suffice  for  our  present  purpose.  Binet  set  himself 
the  task  to  find  out  “  whether  the  phenomena  of  the 
duplication  of  consciousness  are  to  be  met  with  in 
healthy,  nonhysterical  individuals,”  or,  in  other  words, 
whether  there  can  be  detected  the  presence  of  another 
self  in  perfectly  healthy  and  normal  subjects.  He  con¬ 
ducted  the  experiments  in  the  following  way : 

158 


THE  SUBWAKING  SELF. 


159 


“  I  requested  my  subjects,”  says  Binet,*  “  to  whom, 
of  course,  no  explanation  was  given  of  what  was  going 
to  be  done,  to  seat  themselves  before  a  table  and  leave 
their  right  hands  to  me,  while  I  gave  them  something 
interesting  to  read.  One  of  the  experiments  it  ap¬ 
peared  to  me  easiest  to  effect  was  that  of  the  repetition 
of  passive  movements.  A  pencil  being  placed  in  the 
hand  of  the  subject,  who  was  attentively  reading  a  jour¬ 
nal,  I  made  the  hand  trace  a  uniform  movement,  choos¬ 
ing  that  which  it  executes  with  most  facility — for 
example,  shadings,  or  curls,  or  little  dots.  Having 
communicated  these  movements  for  some  minutes,  I 
left  the  hand  to  itself  quite  gently  ;  the  hand  continued 
the  movement  a  little.  After  three  or  four  experi¬ 
ments  the  repetition  of  the  movement  became  more 
perfect,  and  with  Mile.  G.  at  the  fourth  sitting  the 
repetition  was  so  distinct  that  the  hand  traced  as  many 
as  eighty  curls  without  stopping.”  Furthermore,  there 
was  a  rudimentary  memory  of  the  movements  imparted. 
“  When  the  hand  had  been  successfully  habituated  to 
repeating  a  certain  kind  of  movement — for  example, 
curls — it  was  to  this  kind  of  movement  that  it  had  a 
tendency  to  return.  If  it  was  made  to  trace  the  figure  1 
a  hundred  times  and  was  afterward  left  to  itself,  the 
stroke  of  the  figure  became  rapidly  modified,  and 
turned  into  a  curl.”  This  sub  waking  self,  like  a  child, 
learned  to  use  the  hand  and  to  write,  and  showed  that 
it  remembered  what  it  once  learned,  and  that  it  was 
easier  for  it  to  perform  the  acts  once  acquired. 

“When  any  kind  of  movement  had  been  well 
repeated  it  could  be  reproduced  without  solicitation 


*  A.  Binet,  On  Double  Consciousness.  Vide  Binet,  On  Double 
Consciousness  in  Health,  Mind,  vol.  xv. 


160 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OP  SUGGESTION. 


every  time  a  pen  was  put  in  the  subject’s  hand  and  she 
fixed  her  attention  on  reading.  But  if  the  subject 
thought  attentively  of  her  hand  the  movement  stopped. 

“With  a  slight  pressure  I  was  able  to  make  the 
hand  go  obediently  in  all  directions,  carrying  the  pen 
with  it.  This  is  not  a  simple  mechanical  compulsion, 
for  a  very  feeble  and  very  short  contact  is  sufficient  to 
bring  a  very  long  movement  of  the  hand.  The  phe¬ 
nomena,  I  believe,  can  be  approximated  to  a  rudi¬ 
mentary  suggestion  by  the  sense  of  touch.  Nothing  is 
more  curious  than  to  see  the  hand  of  a  person  who  is 
awake  and  thinks  she  is  in  full  possession  of  herself 
implicitly  obey  the  experimenter’s  orders.” 

Thus  we  find  that  by  distracting  the  attention  of  the 
waking  self  we  may  gain  access  to  the  sub  waking  self  of 
the  normal  individual  and  teach  it  to  use  the  bodily 
organs  which  we  place  at  its  disposal  to  express  itself. 
It  can  not  attain,  however,  to  any  degree  of  efficiency, 
because  the  disaggregation  effected  is  but  slight  and 
transitory — the  controlling  consciousness  is  wide  awake. 
Meanwhile,  during  the  time  the  secondary  self  takes 
its  exercises  in  writing  slight  anaesthesia  supervenes. 
Pain  is  not  as  well  perceived,  the  aesthesiometer  shows 
diminished  sensibility. 

Furthermore,  Binet  finds  that  “  the  more  the  subject 
is  distracted  (by  reading,  mental  calculation,  etc.)  the 
more  irregular  become  the  voluntary  movements  of  the 
hand,  and  if  the  distraction  is  very  intense  these  move¬ 
ments  may  cease  completely.  On  the  contrary,  the 
more  distracted  the  subject  is,  the  more  regular  and 
considerable  become  the  automatic  movements  of  the 
hand.  The  contrast  is  striking.”  Here  once  more  we 
strike  upon  the  truth,  and  this  time  in  the  case  of  per¬ 
fectly  normal  people,  that  the  growth  and  expansion  of 


THE  SUBWAKING  SELF. 


161 


the  subwaking  consciousness  is  in  inverse  ratio  to  that 
of  the  waking  self-consciousness. 

However  the  case  may  be  with  this  last  proposition, 
one  central  truth  remains  firm,  valid,  unshaken,  and 
that  is  the  presence  of  a  subpersonal  self  in  normal  life. 
The  results  of  laboratory  experiments  on  perfectly 
healthy  people  in  their  normal  waking  state,  the  phe¬ 
nomena  of  hypnosis,  of  automatic  writing,  of  crystal- 
gazing,  and  of  shell-hearing — all  go  to  form  a  strong, 
irrefragable  chain  of  evidence  in  support  of  the  truth 
that  behind  the  primary  self  a  secondary  consciousness 
lies  hidden. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 


THE  INTERCOMMUNICATION  OF  THE  TWO  SELVES. 

The  two  selves  in  normal  man  are  so  co-ordinated 
that  they  blend  into  one.  Eor  all  practical  purposes  a 
unity,  the  conscious  individual  is  still  a  duality.  The 
self-conscious  personality,  although  apparently  blended 
with  the  subwaking  self,  is  still  not  of  the  latter.  The 
life  of  the  waking  self-consciousness  flows  within  the 
larger  life  of  the  subwaking  self  like  a  warm  equa¬ 
torial  current  within  the  cold  bosom  of  the  ocean. 
The  swiftly  coursing  current  and  the  deep  ocean  seem 
to  form  one  body,  but  they  really  do  not.  The  one  is 
the  bed  in  which  the  other  circulates.  The  two  do  not 
mingle  their  waters  ;  and  still,  separate  and  different  as 
the  two  are,  they  nevertheless  intercommunicate.  The 
warmth  of  the  Gulf  Stream  is  conducted  to  the  ocean, 
and  the  agitation  of  the  ocean  is  transmitted  to  the 
Gulf  Stream.  So  is  it  with  the  two  selves.  Appar¬ 
ently  one,  they  are,  in  fact,  two — the  warm  stream  of 
waking  self-consciousness  does  not  mingle  its  intelli¬ 
gence  with  that  of  the  subwaking  self.  But  though 
flowing  apart,  they  still  intercommunicate.  Messages 
come  from  the  one  to  the  other ;  and  since  the  range  of 
sensibility — life — is  wider  and  deeper  in  the  case  of  the 
subwaking  self,  the  messages,  as  a  rule,  come  not  from 

the  waking  to  the  subwaking,  but,  on  the  contrary, 

162 


INTERCOMMUNICATION  OF  THE  TWO  SELVES.  163 


from  the  subwaking  or  secondary  to  the  waking  or 
primary  self.  The  two  streams  of  consciousness  and 
their  intercommunication  may  be  represented  thus  : 


CO 

co 

iE  CO 


K 


We  find  such  messages  in  the  case  of  hysteria. 
Ask  the  hysterical  patient  to  think  of  a  number,  and  if 
he  holds  a  pen  or  a  pencil  in  the  anaesthetic  hand  he 
will  write  down  the  number,  or  if  he  has  a  dynamom¬ 
eter  in  his  hand  he  will  press  distinctly  as  many  times 
as  there  are  units  in  the  number,  not  being  aware  of 
what  he  is  doing.  In  these  cases  the  message  is  trans¬ 
mitted  from  the  primary  to  the  secondary  self. 

“  L.,  an  hysterical  patient  totally  anaesthetic,”  says 
Binet,*  “  gazed  fixedly  at  a  blue  cross ;  the  position 
and  arrangement  of  the  cross  by  simultaneous  contrast 
caused  the  production  of  a  yellow  colour  about  the 
cross.  During  this  time  the  right  hand,  into  which, 
without  the  patient’s  knowledge,  a  pen  had  been 
slipped,  did  not  cease  to  write,  ‘  Blue,  yellow,  blue, 
yellow,  etc.’  ”  Here  once  more  we  have  the  message 
transmitted  from  the  primary  to  the  secondary  self. 

On  the  other  hand,  “let  us  seize  the  anaesthetic 
hand,”  says  Binet,  f  “  and  let  us  cause  it  to  trace  behind 
a  screen  the  word  ‘  Paris.’  We  know  that  this  word 
will  be  repeated  several  times.  Then,  upon  addressing 
ourselves  to  the  principal  subject  (that  is,  to  the  wak- 


*  A.  Binet,  On  Double  Consciousness. 


f  Ibid. 


164 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  SUGGESTION. 


1 


ing  self-consciousness)  we  will  ask  him  to  write  the 
word  ‘London.’  The  subject,  entirely  ignorant  of 
what  has  just  taken  place,  eagerly  seizes  the  pen  with 
the  intention  to  carry  out  our  wish,  but  to  his  utter 
astonishment  the  indocile  pen,  instead  of  writing  ‘  Lon¬ 
don,’  writes  4  Paris.’  ”  Here  we  have  a  motor  message 
transmitted  from  the  secondary  to  the  primary  self. 

The  following  experiments,  also  made  by  Binet  *  on 
hysterical  subjects,  are  still  more  striking : 

“  Let  us  make  ten  punctures  in  the  ansesthetic 
hand,  and  thereupon  let  us  ask  the  subject,  who,  as  a 
matter  of  course,  has  not  seen  his  hand,  which  is  hid¬ 
den  behind  a  screen,  to  think  of  some  number  and  to 
name  it ;  frequently  the  subject  will  answer  that  he  is 
thinking  of  the  number  ten.  In  the  same  manner  let 
us  put  a  key,  a  coin,  a  needle,  a  watch,  into  the  anaes¬ 
thetic  hand,  and  let  us  ask  the  subject  to  think  of  any 
object  whatsoever ;  it  will  very  often  happen  that  the 
subject  is  thinking  of  the  precise  object  that  has  been 
put  into  his  insensible  hand.” 

If  we  turn  to  hypnosis,  we  find  again  the  frequent 
occurrence  of  such  messages. 

I  hypnotized  Mr.  A.  F.,  and  told  him  two  stories ; 
then  I  suggested  to  him  that  when  he  wakes  up  he  shall 
remember  nothing  at  all  of  what  I  had  told  him — that 
is,  the  memory  shall  remain  only  in  possession  of  the  sub¬ 
waking  self.  I  then  awakened  him.  My  friends  who 
were  present  at  the  seance  asked  him  if  he  knew  what  I 
told  him.  He  was  surprised  at  the  question ;  he  could 
not  remember  anything.  A  few  minutes  later  I  went 
up  to  him,  put  my  hand  on  his  brow,  and  said  :  “  You 
can  remember  now  everything  that  passed  during  hyp- 


*  A.  Binet,  On  Double  Consciousness. 


INTERCOMMUNICATION  OF  THE  TWO  SELVES.  165 

nosis.  Try  hard ;  you  can  !  ”  He  thought  some  time, 
and  at  once,  as  if  he  received  sudden  information,  told 
us  the  two  stories  in  detail.  Another  time  I  made  him 
pass  through  a  series  of  actions,  again  giving  the  sug¬ 
gestion  of  oblivion,  and  again  with  the  same  results. 
He  thought  he  slept  deeply  for  about  half  an  hour.  As 
soon  as  I  put  my  hand  to  his  forehead  the  subwaking 
self  sent  at  once  a  despatch  of  the  detained  information 
to  the  waking  consciousness.  Once  I  made  Mr.  A.  F. 
pass  through  a  series  of  scenes  and  different  complicated 
events  of  life.  The  suggestion  of  oblivion  was  again 
enforced.  When  he  was  awakened  he  remarked  that 
he  slept  very  long — for  about  an  hour  and  a  half  ;  he 
could  not  remember  anything.  I  put  my  hand  to  his 
brow,  gave  the  suggestion  of  recollection,  and  the  hyp¬ 
notic  self  at  once  sent  up  the  intelligence. 

How,  if  the  hvpergesthetic,  sub  waking  self  and  the 
waking  self-consciousness,  their  interrelations  and  inter¬ 
communications,  subsist  also  in  normal  life,  as  they  most 
certainly  do  in  the  states  of  hypnosis,  automatic  writing, 
and  crystal-gazing — if  they  subsist,  I  say,  also  in  the  life 
of  every  man,  we  ought  to  find  it  out  by  experiments. 
We  ought  to  find  that  sensory  impressions  that  lie  out¬ 
side  the  range  of  sensibility  of  the  waking  self,  but 
within  the  range  of  the  subwaking  self,  that  such  sen¬ 
sory  impressions  will  still  be  transmitted  to  the  primary 
self.  The  guesses  of  the  subject  must  rise  far  above 
the  dead  level  of  chance — probability.  And  such  is 
actually  the  case. 

The  first  set  of  experiments  I  made  on  myself.  My 
right  eye  is  amblyopic ;  it  sees  very  imperfectly ;  for  it, 
things  are  enshrouded  in  a  mist.  When  the  left  eye  is 
closed  and  a  book  is  opened  before  me  I  am  unable  to 
tell  letter  from  figure ;  I  see  only  dots,  rows  of  them, 


166 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  SUGGESTION. 


all  indistinct,  hazy,  oscillating,  appearing  and  disappear¬ 
ing  from  my  field  of  vision.  When  a  single  letter  or 
figure  is  presented  to  my  right  eye,  I  see  only  a  black 
dot,  as  a  kernel  surrounded  by  a  film  of  mist. 

I  asked  Mr.  B.  to  make  twenty-five  slips  and  write 
down  on  each  slip  four  characters — letters,  figures,  or 
both — in  different  combinations,  but  so  that  in  all  the 
twenty -five  slips  the  number  of  letters  should  equal  the 
number  of  figures.  When  a  slip  was  presented  to  my 
right  eye,  the  other  being  closed,  I  had  to  guess  which 
of  the  characters  was  letter  and  which  was  figure. 
When  the  first  series  of  twenty-five  was  ended  the  slips 
were  shuffled,  and  a  second  series  began.  Later  on,  the 
same  slips  were  used  for  two  more  series.  I  made  two 
groups  of  experiments  with  two  series  in  each  group. 
Each  series  consisted  of  a  hundred  experiments,  so  that 
there  were  four  hundred  experiments  in  all. 

In  this  class  of  experiments,  named  Class  A,  the 

results  are  as  follows  : 

♦ 

In  the  first  series  of  the  first  group,  out  of  one  hun¬ 
dred  characters  sixty-eight  were  correctly  guessed. 
Since  there  were  only  two  guesses — letter  or  figure — 
fifty  per  cent  must  be  subtracted,  as  so  much  might 
have  been  due  to  mere  chance  (we  shall  find,  however, 
from  our  other  experiments  that  the  percentage  sub¬ 
tracted  is  too  high) ;  eighteen  per  cent  thus  remains  In 
favour  of  messages  coming  from  the  secondary  self — 
in  other  words,  eighteen  per  cent  is  left  in  favour  of 
secondary  sight. 

In  the  second  series  of  the  first  group,  out  of  one 
hundred  characters  seventy-two  were  guessed  aright; 
here  again  we  must  subtract  fifty  per  cent  which  might 
have  been  due  to  chance ;  thus  twenty-two  per  cent  re¬ 
mains  in  favour  of  secondary  sight. 


INTERCOMMUNICATION  OF  THE  TWO  SELVES.  167 


In  the  first  series  of  the  second  group,  seventy 
characters  were  guessed  out  of  one  hundred  shown; 
subtracting  fifty,  we  have  twenty  per  cent  in  favour  of 
secondary  sight. 

In  the  second  series  of  the  second  group,  out  of  one 
hundred  characters  shown  seventy-six  were  guessed 
rightly ;  subtracting  fifty,  we  have  twenty-six  per  cent 
in  favour  of  secondary  sight. 

Out  of  four  hundred  experiments  made,  the  general 
character  was  guessed  two  hundred  and  eighty-six  times, 
which  gives  71*5  per  cent ;  subtracting  fifty  per  cent, 
we  have  21/5  per  cent  in  favour  of  secondary  sight.* 

Figures  often  speak  more  eloquently,  more  con¬ 
vincingly,  than  volumes.  The  results  of  the  correct 
answers  as  to  the  general  nature  of  the  character  due  to 
secondary  sight  are  far  below  the  actual  one,  for  in 
subtracting  fifty  per  cent  we  subtracted  too  much,  as 
our  experiments  will  show  farther  on ;  still  they  were 
so  striking  that  I  communicated  them  to  Prof.  James, 
and  he  was  kind  enough  to  encourage  me  in  my  work, 
and  advised  me  to  pursue  the  inquiry  further  in  the 
same  direction. 

The  experiments  were  now  somewhat  modified. 
Five  different  letters,  and  as  many  different  figures, 
were  chosen.  The  letters  were  A,  B,  E,  N,  T ;  the 
figures,  2,  4,  5,  7,  9.  Each  capital  or  figure  was  written 
on  a  separate  card.  I  knew  the  characters,  and  had  to 
guess  none  but  these.  I  had  not  to  name  merely  letter 
or  figure,  thus  having  only  two  guesses,  as  the  case  was 
in  the  experiments  of  Class  A,  but  I  had  to  name  one  of 
the  ten  characters  shown;  in  short,  I  had  always  to 
give  the  particular  name.  Now  here  each  guess  could 


12 


*  See  Appendix  C. 


168 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  SUGGESTION. 


either  be  general,  or  both  particular  and  general,  or  fail 
altogether.  When  I  took  letter  as  letter,  or  figure  as 
figure,  but  gave  the  wrong  name — for  instance,  I  took 
5  for  7,  or  E  for  N — I  guessed  rightly  the  general  na¬ 
ture  only  of  the  character  shown.  When  I  gave  the 
correct  name,  I  guessed,  of  course,  both  the  particular 
and  the  general  nature.  When,  however,  I  mistook  a 
letter  for  a  figure  or  a  figure  for  a  letter,  I  failed,  and 
failed  completely.  As  the  series  of  ten  was  finished 
the  cards  were  shuffled  and  a  new  series  was  started. 
But  few  experiments  were  made  at  a  time,  as  I  had  to 
keep  my  left  eye  closed,  and  looked  only  with  my  right 
eye,  which  soon  became  extremely  fatigued. 

These  experiments,  named  Class  B,  give  the  follow¬ 
ing  results : 

Out  of  four  hundred  experiments  made,  the  general 
character  was  guessed  correctly  two  hundred  and  sev¬ 
enty-three  times,  of  which  the  particular  character  was 
guessed  correctly  one  hundred  and  eighty-eight  times.* 

The  remarkable  success  of  these  last  experiments 
led  me  to  try  the  same  on  people  with  normal  vision. 
The  experiments  were  carried  on  in  the  following  way : 
Ten  cards  were  taken ;  on  each  one  was  put  down  in 
faint  outlines  a  small  capital  or  figure,  the  number 
of  figures  being  equal  to  that  of  the  letters,  so  that 
there  were  five  cards  with  a  different  letter  on  each, 
and  again  five  cards  with  a  different  figure  on  each. 
The  subject  in  these  experiments  was  put  at  such  a 
distance  that  the  character  was  outside  his  range  of 
vision ;  he  saw  nothing  but  a  mere  dot,  blurred,  and 
often  disappearing  altogether.  The  subject  was  told 
that  there  were  ten  cards  in  the  pack,  that  the  number 


*  See  Appendix  D. 


INTERCOMMUNICATION  OF  THE  TWO  SELVES.  169 


of  letter  cards  was  equal  to  that  of  the  figure  cards,  but 
he  was  not  told  the  particular  names  of  the  characters. 
Each  time  a  card  was  shown  the  subject  had  to  give 
some  particular  name  of  character  he  took  that  dot  to 
be.  “They  are  all  alike,  mere  blurred  dots,”  com¬ 
plained  the  subjects.  “No  matter,”  I  answered;  “just 
give  any  letter  or  figure  that  rises  in  your  mind  on 
seeing  that  dot.” 

The  number  of  subjects  was  eight.  I  worked  with 
each  separately,  giving  five  rounds  to  each  subject,  mak¬ 
ing  the  number  of  experiments  fifty,  and  four  hundred 
in  all. 

In  this  class  of  experiments,  named  Class  C,  the 
results  are  as  follows : 

Out  of  four  hundred  experiments  two  hundred  and 
fifty-five  correct  guesses  were  as  to  general  character,  of 
which  ninety-two  were  also  correct  as  to  the  particular 
character.* 

In  the  last  experiments  of  Class  C  the  characters 
were  written  in  print ;  still  I  could  not  succeed  to  have 
the  letters  well  formed  :  the  characters  were  not  made  of 
exactly  the  same  thickness  and  size.  I  therefore  made 
other  sets  of  experiments,  and  this  time  with  twenty 
quite  different  subjects.  1  took  ten  cards  and  pasted  on 
them  letters  and  numerals  of  the  same  size.  Each  card 

had  a  different  letter  or  figure  of  the  following  size : 

The  number  of  figure  cards  being  equal  to  that  of 
letter  cards  (five  figure  cards  and  five  letter  cards),  I 
told  the  subject  that  I  had  a  series  of  ten  cards,  a  letter 
or  a  numeral  on  each,  and  that  the  number  of  figure 
cards  equalled  that  of  the  letter  cards,  but  I  did  not  tell 
him  the  particular  names  of  the  characters. 


*  See  Appendix  E. 


170  THE  psychology  of  suggestion. 

I  worked  with  each  subject  separately,  making  only 
two  series  with  ten  experiments  in  each.  The  subject 
was  placed  at  such  a  distance  from  the  card  that  the 
character  shown  was  far  out  of  his  range  of  vision.  He 
saw  nothing  but  a  dim,  blurred  spot  or  dot.  The  sub¬ 
ject  had  to  name  some  character  which  that  particular 
dot  shown  might  possibly  be.  “  It  is  nothing  but  mere 
guess,”  commented  the  subjects. 

At  the  end  of  the  first  series  the  cards  were  shuffled 
and  the  second  series  was  given.  Each  subject  saw  the 
same  card  but  twice.  The  number  of  the  subjects  being 
twenty,  all  the  first  series  form  a  group  of  two  hundred 
experiments,  and  so  do  the  second  series. 

The  results  in  Class  D  are  as  follows : 

In  the  first  group,  out  of  two  hundred  characters, 
one  hundred  and  thirty  were  guessed  as  to  their  general 
character,  of  which  the  particular  gave  forty-nine. 

In  the  second  group,  out  of  two  hundred,  one  hun¬ 
dred  and  forty  were  of  a  general  character,  of  which 
the  particular  was  fifty-four.* 

I  then  made  with  the  same  number  of  subjects 
another  set  of  experiments  that  should  correspond  to 
Class  B,  made  on  myself — namely,  to  tell  the  subjects 
the  particular  characters  used,  which  were  : 


Letters . . . . .  B,  Z,  K,  U,  H. 

Figures .  2,  4,  5,  7,  9. 


The  characters  were  all  of  the  same  size,  printed,  and 
the  letters  were  all  capitals.  The  subject  had  to  name 
only  one  of  these  characters.  Only  two  series  of  ten 
each  were  made  with  each  subject,  thus  giving  two 
groups  of  two  hundred  experiments  each. 

The  results  in  Class  E  are  as  follows  : 


*  See  Appendix  F. 


INTERCOMMUNICATION  OF  THE  TWO  SELVES.  171 


In  the  first  group,  out  of  two  hundred  characters, 
one  hundred  and  forty  were  guessed  correctly  as  to  their 
general  character,  of  which  sixty-eight  were  correct  par¬ 
ticular  guesses. 

In  the  second  group,  out  of  two  hundred,  one  hun¬ 
dred  and  fifty-one  were  guessed  correctly  as  to  the  gen¬ 
eral  character,  of  which  seventy-one  were  particular 
guesses.* 

As  I  remarked  above,  the  subjects  often  complained 
that  they  could  not  see  anything  at  all ;  that  even  the 
black,  blurred,  dim  spot  often  disappeared  from  their 
field  of  vision  ;  that  it  was  mere  “  guessing  ”  ;  that  they 
might  as  well  shut  their  eyes  and  guess.  How  sur¬ 
prised  were  they  when,  after  the  experiments  were 
over,  I  showed  them  how  many  characters  they  guessed 
correctly  in  a  general  way,  and  how  many  times  they 
gave  the  full  name  of  the  particular  character  shown  ! 

How  all  these  experiments  tend  to  prove  the  pres¬ 
ence  within  us  of  a  secondary  subwaking  self  that  per¬ 
ceives  things  which  the  primary  waking  self  is  unable 
to  get  at.  The  experiments  indicate  the  interrelation 
of  the  two  selves.  They  show  that  messages  are  sent 
up  by  the  secondary  to  the  primary  self. 

Furthermore,  the  results  seem  to  show  that,  in 
case  the  particular  message  fails,  some  abstract  general 
account  of  it  still  reaches  the  upper  consciousness.  An 
inhibited  particular  idea  still  reaches  the  primary  self 
as  an  abstract  idea.  An  abstract  general  idea  in  the 
consciousness  of  the  waking  self  has  a  'particular  idea 
as  its  basis  in  the  subwaking  self. 

The  great  contention  of  nominalism  and  concep¬ 
tualism  over  the  nature  of  abstract  general  ideas  thus 


*  See  Appendix  (x. 


172 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  SUGGESTION. 


may  find  here  its  solution.  The  conceptualists  are  no 
doubt  right  in  asserting  that  a  general  abstract  idea 
may  exist  in  consciousness  apart  from  the  particular 
idea  or  perception  perceived,  but  they  do  not  say  that 
this  consciousness  is  that  of  the  waking  self.  The 
nominalists,  again,  are  right  in  asserting  that  a  general 
abstract  idea  or  concept  has  a  particular  idea  or  percept 
as  its  basis  ;  but  they  do  not  add  that  this  percept  may 
be  totally  absent  from  the  waking  consciousness  and 
only  present  in  the  subwaking  consciousness.  No  gen¬ 
eral  abstract  idea  without  some  particular  percept  as 
basis. 

To  return,  however,  to  my  work  in  hand.  While 
the  above-mentioned  experiments  on  secondary  sight 
were  under  way  another  set  of  experiments  was  car¬ 
ried  out  by  me,  the  purpose  of  which  was  to  tap  directly 
the  suggestibility  of  the  secondary  self,  and  to  find  out 
the  influence  the  subconscious  has  on  the  primary  con¬ 
sciousness. 

The  mechanism  of  the  experiments  was  as  follows : 

On  slips  of  paper  I  made  a  series  of  complicated 
drawings.  Each  slip  had  a  different  pattern.  The 
subject  had  to  look  at  the  pattern  of  the  drawing  for 
ten  seconds,  and  then  the  slip  was  withdrawn  and  he 
had  to  reproduce  the  drawing  from  memory — a  task 
extremely  difficult.  It  took  him  about  fifteen  seconds 
and  more  before  he  could  make  anything  bearing  the 
slightest  resemblance  to  the  drawing  shown.  When 
he  finished  the  drawing  an  elongated  cardboard  with 
eight  digits  pasted  in  a  row  was  shown  to  him  and  the 
subject  had  to  choose  whichever  digit  he  pleased. 
Now,  on  the  margin  of  each  slip  was  written  a  digit 
contained  in  the  number  of  digits  on  the  cardboard  from 
which  the  subject  had  to  choose.  The  subject,  not 


INTERCOMMUNICATION  OF  THE  TWO  SELVES.  173 


having  the  slightest  suspicion  of  the  real  purpose  of  the 
experiments,  being  perfectly  sure  that  the  whole  mat¬ 
ter  was  concerning  imitation  of  the  drawings,  and  be¬ 
ing  assured  by  me  that  the  choosing  of  the  digits  on  the 
cardboard  was  nothing  but  a  device  “  to  break  up  the 
attention  ”  in  passing  from  one  drawing  to  another, 
and  being  besides  intensely  absorbed  in  the  contempla¬ 
tion  and  reproduction  of  the  drawing,  which  was  ex¬ 
tremely  complicated — the  subject,  I  say,  wholly  disre¬ 
garded  the  figure  on  the  margin — he  did  not  even 
notice  it.  I  so  fully  succeeded  in  allaying  all  suspi¬ 
cions  and  distracting  the  attention  of  the  subjects  that 
when  Prof.  James  interrogated  one  of  them,  an  intelli¬ 
gent  man,  he  was  amazed  at  the  latter’s  complete  ig¬ 
norance  as  to  what  was  actually  going  on. 

The  purpose  of  these  experiments,  as  I  said,  was  to 
address  myself  directly  to  the  subwaking  consciousness, 
and  to  see  whether  it  sent  up  suggestion-messages  to 
the  primary  consciousness,  which  by  the  very  mechan¬ 
ism  of  the  experiments  was  thrown  off  its  guard.  In 
the  previous  suggestion-experiments,  in  spite  of  all 
precautions  taken,  the  subject  was  more  or  less  con¬ 
scious  of  what  was  going  on.  I  could  not  completely 
banish  all  suspicions,  and  success,  therefore,  could  only 
be  assured  by  the  many  conditions  favourable  to  nor¬ 
mal  suggestibility,  and  especially  that  of  immediate  exe¬ 
cution ■,  so  that  no  time  was  given  to  the  upper  self  to 
inhibit  the  carrying  out  of  the  suggestion.  In  the 
present  experiments,  on  the  other  hand,  the  suggestion 
was  addressed  dvrectly  (of  course,  as  far  as  this  was 
possible  in  the  normal  waking  state)  to  the  subwaking 
self.  The  upper  primary  self,  being  completely  ab¬ 
sorbed  with  the  drawing,  did  not  notice  the  figure,  or, 
if  it  did,  it  soon  learned  to  disregard  it,  because  he 


174 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  SUGGESTION. 


thought  it  insignificant,  and  because  it  would  only  dis¬ 
tract  his  attention.  But  although  the  figure  was  not 
noticed  and  fully  disregarded  (a  fact  I  was  careful  to 
find  out  from  the  subjects  in  an  indirect  way),  it  still 
impressed  the  sense  organ,  reached  the  secondary  self, 
which  took  it  as  a  suggestion,  sending  it  up  as  a  mes¬ 
sage  to  the  primary  self  or  personality  and  influencing 
the  latter’s  choice. 

This  choice  suggestion  is  strikingly  analogous  to 
post-hypnotic  suggestion.  I  hypnotized,  for  example, 
Mr.  J.  F.,  and  told  him  that  ten  minutes  after  awaken¬ 
ing  he  will  put  out  the  gas.  He  was  awakened,  and 
ten  minutes  later  he  put  out  the  gas.  On  my  asking 
him  why  he  did  it,  he  answered  he  did  not  know  why, 
but  somehow  the  idea  came  into  his  mind,  and  he  en¬ 
acted  it  and  did  put  out  the  gas.  The  post-hypnotic 
suggestion  rises  up  from  the  depths  of  the  secondary 
self  as  a  fixed,  insistent  idea.  A  similar  state  of  mind 
it  was  of  interest  to  find  in  the  case  of  the  subjects  in 
the  present  experiments  under  consideration.  The  sug¬ 
gestion  given  was  to  be  carried  out  only  after  the  imita¬ 
tion  of  the  drawing — that  is,  some  fifteen,  twenty,  or 
twenty-five  seconds  later.  How,  when  the  suggestion 
was  eight,  and  the  subjects  chose  eight,  they  very  often 
told  me  that  they  did  not  know  why,  but  that  number 
came  at  once  into  their  mind  on  being  presented  with 
the  cardboard  of  figures.  We  have  not  to  wonder  at 
it,  for  the  same  psychical  elements  are  here  at  work  as 
in  the  state  of  post-hypnosis.  In  hypnosis  the  sugges¬ 
tion  is  taken  up  by  the  secondary,  sub  waking,  suggestible 
self,  and  then  afterward  this  suggestion  breaks  through 
the  stream  of  the  waking  consciousness,  coming  up  as  an 
insistent  idea ;  so  here,  too,  in  these  choice  experiments 
the  suggestion  was  impressed  on  the  subwaking  self  dir 


INTERCOMMUNICATION  OP  THE  TWO  SELVES.  175 


rectly  and  firmly,  and  this  suggestion  was  then  sent  up 
to  the  waking  consciousness.  And  just  as  we  find  in 
the  case  of  post-hypnotic  suggestion,  that  not  always 
and  not  all  suggestions  given  during  hypnosis  are  sue* 
cessful  in  being  carried  out,  so  here,  too,  in  our  ex¬ 
periments,  the  suggestions — messages  from  the  subcon¬ 
scious  regions — were  not  always  taken  by  the  upper 
consciousness  of  the  subject.  We  cannot  possibly  ex¬ 
pect  invariably  success  in  a  state  when  the  waking  self 
is  in  full  swing  and  possesses  all  the  power  of  inhibition. 
Still  the  success  was  remarkable. 

Before  giving  the  results  let  me  say  a  few  words  as 
to  the  classification  of  the  experiments.  When  I 
started  my  first  experiments  of  this  kind  a  suspicion 
crept  into  my  mind  that  it  might  be  fully  possible  that 
in  case  a  suggestion  given  did  not  succeed  it  might  still 
succeed  partially  as  mediate  suggestion,  by  arousing 
some  association  which  will  be  obeyed.  For  instance, 
in  giving  6  as  a  suggestion,  6  itself  might  not  be 
chosen,  but  some  number  that  succeeds  or  precedes  it, 
such  as  5  or  7,  or  possibly  a  numeral  next  to  the  sug¬ 
gested  one  in  place,  say  1  or  2,  for  I  arranged  my  fig¬ 
ures  on  the  cardboard  in  such  a  way  as  to  break  up  the 
natural  succession  of  the  digits.  I  was  therefore  care¬ 
ful  to  make  two  separate  classes  for  these  two  kinds  of 
association  suggestions — namely,  suggestion  by  locality 
and  suggestion  by  numbers ,  which  we  may  term  as 
locality  and  number  suggestions.  The  results  of  my 
experiments  showed  me  the  mediate  suggestion  was 
here  of  but  little  importance. 

I  made  one  thousand  experiments  and  operated 
with  twenty  subjects,  of  which  sixteen  were  fresh 
ones,  not  having  taken  part  in  any  of  my  other  experi¬ 
ments. 


176 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  SUGGESTION. 


The  figures  on  the  cardboard  were  arranged  thus : 

26471538 

In  suggesting  number  6  the  subject  could  have  taken 
by  number  suggestion — that  is,  either  5  or  7 ;  or  by 
locality  suggestion — that  is,  either  4  or  2. 


SUGGESTION 


The  results  are  as  follows :  * 


Immediate  suggestion 


Mediate  suggestion 


locality 

number 


Per  cent. 

32T 

6-2 

3*3 


How  shall  we  explain  the  fact  that  in  our  experi¬ 
ments  the  percentage  of  correct  guesses  is  far  above  the 
one  due  to  chance  alone?  Two  theories  are  on  the 
field  to  account  for  this  fact:  one  is  the  well-known 
unconscious  cerebration,  and  the  other  is  my  own  point 
of  view,  or  what  I  may  call  the  psycho-physiological 
theory. 

On  the  theory  of  unconscious  cerebration,  each  fig¬ 
ure  shown  outside  the  range  of  vision  made  an  im¬ 
pression  on  the  retina.  This  impression  was  trans¬ 
mitted  to  the  sensorium,  to  the  central  ganglia  of  the 
brain,  the  occipital  lobes,  exciting  there  physiological 
processes  that  are  not  strong  enough  to  rise  above  the 
threshold  of  consciousness.  In  short,  each  figure  stimu¬ 
lated  the  peripheral  sense  organ,  giving  rise  to  a  cen- 


*  See  Appendix  H. 


INTERCOMMUNICATION  OF  THE  TWO  SELVES.  177 


tral  but  unconscious  physiological  process.  Now,  ac¬ 
cording  to  the  theory  of  unconscious  cerebration,  it  was 
this  unconscious  physiological  process  that  helped  the 
subject  to  form  correct  guesses. 

The  psycho-physiological  theory,  while  agreeing 
with  the  theory  of  unconscious  cerebration  as  to  the 
physiological  account,  makes  a  step  further.  Each 
figure  certainly  made  an  impression  on  the  peripheral 
sense  organ  and  induced  central  physiological  processes, 
but  these  processes  had  their  psychical  accompaniments. 
Far  from  being  mere  mechanical,  unconscious  work, 
these  physiological  processes  were  accompanied  by  con¬ 
sciousness  ;  only  this  consciousness  was  present  not  to 
the  upper,  but  to  the  lower  subconscious  self. 

If  we  analyze  the  theory  of  unconscious  cerebration 
we  find  it  deficient  in  giving  a  full  account  of  the 
matter.  No  doubt  each  figure  started  some  central 
physiological  process,  but  a  physiological  process  with¬ 
out  any  psychical  accompaniment  can  not  possibly  serve 
as  a  clew  to  the  psychical  process  of  correct  guessing ; 
for  as  long  as  a  material  process  remains  material,  it  is 
from  a  psychical  standpoint  as  well  as  nonexistent — 
that  is,  it  can  not  possibly  be  taken  cognizance  of  by 
an  already  existing  consciousness,  but,  by  hypothesis 
itself,  it  does  not  and  it  can  not  give  rise  to  a  con¬ 
sciousness.  It  is  only  in  so  far  as  physiological  pro¬ 
cesses  have  psychical  accompaniments  that  they  can 
serve  at  all  as  a  clew  for  correct  guessing.  In  short, 
the  percentage  of  correct  guesses  in  our  experiments 
can  not  be  accounted  for  on  the  theory  of  unconscious 
cerebration  ;  there  must  therefore  have  been  conscious 
perception. 

Furthermore,  to  have  a  correct  general  idea  of  a 
scarcely  perceptible  dot  as  being  letter  or  figure,  there 


178 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  SUGGESTION. 


must  evidently  be  some  perception  of  the  particular 
traits  of  the  dot ;  there  must  be  a  subconscious  percep¬ 
tion  of  the  particular  letter  or  figure. 

Moreover,  to  be  still  more  sure  that  subconscious 
perception  is  a  vera  causa  in  correct  guessing,  I  made 
the  following  experiments : 

On  five  cards  were  put  five  proper  names,  one 
name  on  each  card.  The  cards  were  then  shown  to 
the  subjects,  who  were  put  at  such  a  distance  that  they 
could  see  only  some  faint  dots.  The  subject  was  told 
that  there  were  five  cards,  and  that  on  each  card  there 
was  some  proper  name — the  name  of  a  river,  of  a  city, 
of  a  bird,  of  a  man,  and  of  a  woman — but  he  was  not 
told  the  proper  name  itself.  Now  each  time  a  card 
was  shown  the  subject  had  to  guess  which  is  city,  river, 
bird,  man,  or  woman.  The  number  of  subjects  was 
ten.  The  total  number  of  experiments  made  was  five 
hundred. 

Of  these  five  hundred  experiments,  three  hundred 
and  six  were  wrong  guesses  and  one  hundred  and  nine¬ 
ty-four  were  correct  guesses.  Since  there  were  five 
names  to  guess,  one  fifth,  or  twenty  per  cent,  of  the 
total  number  of  guesses  might  have  been  due  to  chance 
— that  is,  one  hundred  guesses  may  be  put  down  to 
chance,  but  there  still  remains  a  residuum  of  ninety- 
four  guesses,  or  18*8  per  cent  of  the  total  number  of 
experiments. 

This  residuum  must  be  explained  by  something 
other  than  chance.  Now,  on  the  theory  of  unconscious 
cerebration  the  fact  of  this  residuum  is  almost  in¬ 
comprehensible.  How  can  one  guess  correctly  what 
one  does  not  see — that  it  looks  like  man,  river,  or 
city — unless  one  actually  perceives  the  proper  name 
shown  ? 


INTERCOMMUNICATION  OF  THE  TWO  SELVES.  179 

On  the  psycho-physiological  or  on  the  subconscious 
perception  theory  we  can  fully  see  the  reason  of  this 
residuum.  The  names  were  actually  perceived.  The 
lower,  secondary  self,  or  the  subconsciousness,  perceived 
the  proper  names,  but  only  some  of  them  could  be 
communicated  to  the  upper  consciousness. 

The  facts  and  experiments  discussed  above  seem  to 
point,  by  mere  force  of  cumulative  evidence,  to  the 
presence  within  us  of  a  secondary,  reflex,  subwaking 
consciousness — the  highway  of  suggestion — and  also  to 
the  interrelation  and  communication  that  subsist  be¬ 
tween  the  two  selves. 


CHAPTER  XYIIL 


THE  SUBCONSCIOUS  SELF  IN  THE  WAKING  STATE. 

The  results  of  our  experiments  prove  the  secondary 
self  to  be  the  highway  of  suggestion.  Suggestibility  is 
the  very  essence  of  the  sub  waking  self ;  and  since  this  is 
also  the  essential  characteristic  of  the  hypnotic  self,  we 
may  therefore  conclude  that  the  subwaking  self  of  the 
normal  individual  is  identical  with  the  hypnotic  self. 
We  arrived  already  at  this  conclusion  in  a  former  chap¬ 
ter,  when  we  were  discussing  The  Double  Self ;  and 
now,  having  started  from  quite  a  different  point,  we 
once  more  come  to  the  same  truth.  The  proof  there¬ 
fore  seems  to  be  complete.  Still,  in  order  to  elucidate 
thoroughly  the  subject  under  investigation,  I  bring  here 
one  more  proof  as  to  the  identity  of  the  normal  sub- 
consciousness  and  the  hypnotic  self. 

An  acquaintance  of  mine,  Mr.  W.,  a  highly  sugges¬ 
tible  young  man,  came  to  visit  me.  For  the  sake  of 
amusement,  without  expecting  any  definite  result,  I 
tried  upon  him  the  following  experiment:  I  took  an 
umbrella,  put  it  on  the  ground,  and  asked  him  to  pass 
it.  He  did  it  easily.  “  Well,”  I  said,  “  but  this  is  not  the 
way  I  want  you  to  go  about  it.”  I  put  myself  opposite 
him.  “I  will  count  slowly,  one,  two,  three,  four,  and 
each  time  you  make  a  step.”  I  counted  ;  he  passed  the 
umbrella.  “  How,  once  more  1  ”  I  counted  with  great 

180 


SUBCONSCIOUS  SELF  IN  THE  WAKING  STATE.  181 

solemnity,  with  great  emphasis,  and  laid  particular  stress 
on  number  four.  He  passed  the  umbrella,  but,  it  seemed 
to  me,  with  some  hesitation  and  difficulty.  Without 
giving  him  time  to  rest,  I  exclaimed,  “  And  now,  once 
more !  ”  I  counted  slower  than  before,  with  greater 
emphasis  and  laid  still  more  stress  on  four,  and  while 
pronouncing  it  I  stretched  out  my  arm  and  made  my 
hand  as  rigid  as  possible.  To  my  great  surprise,  and 
to  that  of  those  present,  Mr.  W.  could  not  pass  the 
charmed  umbrella.  His  legs  became  rigid,  and  his  feet 
were  as  if  fastened  to  the  ground.  He  was  suspected 
of  simulation.  The  gentlemen  who  witnessed  the  ex¬ 
periment  could  not  conceive  how  a  strong,  sane  young 
man,  in  the  full  possession  of  his  consciousness,  should 
not  be  able  to  pass  such  an  innocent  object  as  an  um¬ 
brella.  Mr.  W.  really  could  not  accomplish  this  ordi¬ 
nary  feat,  which  a  child  of  two  can  easily  do ;  he  tried 
hard ;  his  face  became  red  and  bathed  in  perspiration 
on  account  of  the  muscular  strain,  but  all  his  efforts 
were  futile.  “Ho,”  he  exclaimed  at  last  in  great  dis¬ 
may,  “  I  can  not  do  it !  ” 

Later  on,  in  the  presence  of  two  Boston  High  School 
instructors,  I  repeated  again  the  same  experiment  on 
Mr.  W.,  and  with  the  same  result.  Mr.  W.  exerted 
himself  to  the  utmost,  but  all  his  efforts  were  in  vain ; 
he  could  not  pass  the  charmed  line.  By  this  time  he 
became  accustomed  to  this  strange  phenomenon,  and 
he  sat  down  with  a  smile,  acknowledging  that  he  could 
not  step  over  the  umbrella. 

I  then  tried  on  Mr.  W.  another  experiment.  Pro¬ 
nounce  “Boston.” — “Boston,”  and  he  said  it  easily 
enough.  “  And  now  again.”  I  stretched  out  my  hand 
and  made  it  perfectly  rigid.  “  P-p-p-p-oston !  ”  he 
ejaculated  with  great  difficulty.  “Again.”  I  made 


182 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  SUGGESTION. 


my  hand  still  stiffer,  and  pointed  it  almost  directly  in 
his  face.  No  sound.  “  Don’t  look  at  me,”  he  said  at 
last,  “  and  I’ll  he  able  to  say  it.” 


Fig.  1,  normal  writing ;  Figs.  2,  3,  and  4,  writing  under  suggestion 

that  the  hand  is  becoming  rigid. 


“Well,  then,”  I  said,  “try  the  following  sentence: 
*  Peter  Piper  picked  a  peck  of  pickled  peppers.’  ”  He 
began  to  say  it,  but  when  he  came  to  “  peck  of  ”  I 
raised  my  hand  and  stiffened  it.  “  P-p-p-e-ec-k  ”  came 


SUBCONSCIOUS  SELF  IN  THE  WAKING  STATE.  183 

from  his  lips ;  he  began  to  stammer  and  could  not  con¬ 
tinue. 

“Well,  then,”  I  said,  “let  me  see  if  you  are  able  to 
pronounce  your  name.”  He  pronounced  it.  “  Try 
again.”  I  stiffened  my  hand,  and  again  the  same  re¬ 
sult — he  was  unable  to  pronounce  his  own  name. 

“  Is  it  possible,”  asked  Mr.  W.  of  me,  “  that  if  you 
meet  me  on  the  street  you  could  make  me  of  a  sud- 


II. 


Fig.  1,  normal  signature ;  Figs.  2,  3,  4,  and  5,  signature  under  sug¬ 
gestion  of  the  hand  being  rigid. 


13 


184 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  SUGGESTION. 


den  dumb  and  paralytic  ?  ”  I  gave  him  an  evasive 
answer. 

“  Try  now  to  write  6  Boston/  ”  I  requested  Mr.  W. 
He  did  it,  and  wrote  with  great  ease.  “  Again.”  I 
stiffened  my  hand,  loudly  and  authoritatively  suggest¬ 
ing  a  like  rigidity  of  his  hand.  His  hand  grew  more 
and  more  rigid;  “ Boston”  became  more  and  more 
broken  ;  the  hand  went  in  jerks  and  jumps,  breaking  at 
last  the  point  of  the  pencil. 

“  And  now  let  me  see  whether  you  are  able  to  write 
your  name.”  Again  the  same  result.  He  could  not 
write  his  own  name. 

Specimens  of  his  writings  will  be  found  on  pages 
182  and  183. 

Afterward  I  hypnotized  Mr.  W.,  and  found  he  fell 
into  the  very  last  stage  of  somnambulism. 

How  these  last  experiments,  together  with  others  of 
the  kind  adduced  by  Bernheim,  Delboeuf,  etc.,  and 
mentioned  by  me  in  a  previous  chapter,  certainly  do 
give  strong  evidence  of  the  presence  of  the  hypnotic 
self  in  the  normal  waking  state.  W e  have  here  a  young 
man  who  in  his  normal  waking  condition  takes  sug¬ 
gestions  characteristic  of  the  hypnotic  state.  The  hyp¬ 
notic  self  is  present  in  the  waking  state  of  man  as  the 
subwaking  self.  The  case  adduced  by  me  is  certainly 
rare,  unique,  but  it  serves  to  bring  out  the  truth  of 
our  contention  clearly  before  the  mind  of  the  reader. 

We  saw  above  that  all  kinds  of  suggestibility, 
whether  normal  or  abnormal,  must  have  as  their  pre¬ 
requisite  some  disaggregation  of  consciousness,  a  disag¬ 
gregation  of  the  two  selves,  of  the  waking  and  of  the 
hypnotic  sub  waking  self.  How  such  a  disaggregation 
could  easily  be  effected  in  Mr.  W.,  and  this  was  proved 
by  the  fact  of  his  subsequent  falling  into  the  deepest 


SUBCONSCIOUS  SELF  IN  THE  WAKING  STATE.  185 


somnambulic  condition  on  being  hypnotized.  For,  as 
we  have  shown  above,  the  difference  between  normal  and 
abnormal  suggestibility  is  only  a  difference  of  degree  of 
disaggregation.  In  the  hypnotic  state  this  disaggrega¬ 
tion  is  comparatively  more  complete,  far  more  perma¬ 
nent,  than  in  that  of  normal  suggestibility.  In  the 
normal  state,  even  when  the  subject  is  highly  suggesti¬ 
ble,  the  disaggregation  is  transitory,  fleeting ;  it  occurs 
only  during  the  time  of  the  suggestion,  and  the  equilib¬ 
rium  is  restored  on  the  suggestion  being  over;  but 
this  is  not  the  case  in  the  state  of  abnormal  suggesti¬ 
bility.  In  the  waking  state,  however  suggestible  the 
individual  may  be — that  is,  however  easy  it  is  to  disso¬ 
ciate  momentarily  the  one  self  from  the  other — still  the 
waking  self  does  not  lose  its  hold  on  the  subwaking 
self ;  the  waking  self  can  still  control ;  his  authority, 
although  somewhat  impaired,  has  nevertheless  power 
and  commands  obedience.  This  is  beautifully  shown 
by  the  experiments  I  made  on  Mr.  W.  the  day  after. 

JSText  day  Mr.  W.  came  to  me  again.  Again  I  tried 
on  him  the  same  experiments  so  successfully  carried 
out  the  day  before,  but  this  time  the  results  were  quite 
different. 

I  put  the  umbrella  on  the  ground  and  asked  him  to 
step  over  it.  He  did  it  without  the  slightest  incon¬ 
venience.  I  counted  slowly,  stiffened  my  hand,  but  of 
no  avail.  He  stepped  over  the  umbrella,  although  oc¬ 
casionally  with  some  slight  difficulty. 

“Just  try  to  write  your  name,”  I  said.  He  wrote 
it.  “Again.”  He  wrote  it  once  more.  I  asked  him 
to  write  slowly  ;  meanwhile  I  raised  my  hand,  stiffened 
it,  kept  it  before  his  very  eyes.  The  results  were  now 
extremely  interesting.  His  hand  became  cataleptic  ;  he 
could  not  manage  it.  In  a  loud  voice  he  began  to  give 


186 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  SUGGESTION. 


suggestions  to  himself.  “  I  am  able  to  write  my  name ; 
I  can  write  my  name ;  I  will  and  shall  write  it ;  yes,  I 
can ;  I  can  write  my  name  ;  ”  etc.  Each  time  as  he 

III. 


Fig.  1,  normal;  Figs.  2-8,  subject  could  not  continue;  he  caught 
sight  of  me  and  his  hand  became  rigid ;  Fig.  8,  the  pencil  breaks 
on  account  of  the  great  strain ;  Figs.  9  and  10,  the  subject  re¬ 
gained  full  control  over  his  hand. 

caught  sight  of  my  raised  hand  and  listened  to  the  tor¬ 
rent  of  suggestions  I  poured  forth  his  hand  became 
slightly  cataleptic  and  the  letters  became  broken,  but 
each  time  as  he  repeated  his  suggestions  the  hand  went 


SUBCONSCIOUS  SELF  IN  THE  WAKING  STATE.  187 


on  writing.  The  waking  self  of  Mr.  W.  and  I  were 
contending  for  the  possession  of  Mr.  W.’s  secondary 
self ;  and  Mr.  W.  succeeded  at  last  in  gaining  full  con¬ 
trol  over  his  secondary  self.  My  suggestions  were  com¬ 
pletely  disregarded. 

Specimens  of  the  subject’s  writing  will  be  found  on 
page  186. 

These  last  experiments  and  observations  bring  out 
clearly  the  fact  that  the  hypnotic  consciousness  is  pres¬ 
ent  in  the  waking  state  as  the  subconscious  self. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

THE  PROBLEM  OF  PERSONALITY. 

It  is  certainly  of  great  interest  to  know  whether  the 
subconscious  revealed  behind  the  upper  consciousness  is 
a  personality  or  not.  To  answer  this  question  we  must 
first  turn  to  the  problem  of  personality.  What  is  per¬ 
sonality  ?  Omitting  the  metaphysical  hypotheses  of  the 
soul  and  of  the  transcendental  ego,  we  find  on  the  field 
of  empirical  psychology  two  contending  theories  of  per¬ 
sonality  :  the  one  is  the  association  theory  of  the  Eng¬ 
lish  and  of  the  Herbartians,  the  other  is  the  “wave 
theory”  of  Prof.  James. 

The  personal  self  is  regarded  by  the  associationists 
as  a  train  of  ideas  of  which  memory  declares  the  first  to 
be  continuously  connected  with  the  last.  The  succes¬ 
sive  associated  ideas  run,  as  it  were,  into  a  single  point. 
Memory  and  personality  are  identified.  Personality  is 
considered  as  a  series  of  independent  ideas  so  closely 
associated  as  to  form  in  memory  one  conscious  series. 
“  The  phenomena  of  self  *  and  that  of  memory,”  says 
J.  S.  Mill,  “  are  merely  two  sides  of  the  same  fact.  .  .  . 
My  memory  of  having  ascended  Skiddaw  on  a  given 
day  and  my  consciousness  of  being  the  same  person  who 


*  Self  is  often  understood  by  writers  as  equivalent  to  personal¬ 
ity,  while  I  use  the  term  self  to  designate  mere  consciousness. 

188 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  PERSONALITY. 


189 


ascended  Skiddaw  on  that  day  are  two  modes  of  stating 
the  same  fact.  ...  I  am  aware  of  a  long  and  uninter¬ 
rupted  succession  of  past  feelings,  going  back  as  far  as 
memory  reaches,  and  terminating  with  the  sensations  I 
have  at  the  present  moment,  all  of  which  are  connected 
by  an  inexplicable  tie.  .  .  .  This  succession  of  feelings 
which  I  call  my  memory  of  the  past  is  that  by  which  I 
distinguish  myself  (personality).”  Mill’s  identification 
of  memory  and  personality  is  rather  unfortunate,  for 
brutes  have  memory,*  but  it  is  certainly  questionable 
whether  they  have  personality.  We  shall,  however, 
soon  see  that  not  only  Mill,  but  psychologists  who  seem 
to  take  the  opposite  view,  fall  into  the  same  fallacy  of 
identifying  personality  with  memory.  In  another  place 
J.  S.  Mill  expresses  himself  clearer  as  to  his  meaning 
of  personality :  “  If  we  speak  of  the  mind  as  a  series  of 
feelings,  we  are  obliged  to  complete  the  statement  by 
calling  it  a  series  of  feelings  which  is  aware  of  itself  as 
past  and  future.”  Mill,  however,  clearly  sees  the  diffi¬ 
culty  of  his  position — namely,  “  the  paradox  that  some¬ 
thing  which,  ex  hypothesis  is  but  a  series  of  feelings 
can  be  aware  of  itself  as  a  series.”  He  endeavours  to 
extricate  himself  from  this  difficulty  by  saying  “  that 
we  are  here  face  to  face  with  that  final  inexplicability 
at  which,  as  Sir  W.  Hamilton  observes,  ‘we  inevitably 
arrive  when  we  reach  ultimate  facts.’  ” 

JSTow  Prof.  James  takes  Mill  to  task,  and  points  out 
that  Mill  himself,  when  “  speaking  of  what  may  rightly 
be  demanded  of  a  theorist,  says :  ‘  He  is  not  entitled  to 
frame  a  theory  from  one  class  of  phenomena,  extend  to 
another  class  which  it  does  not  fit,  and  excuse  himself 


*  See  Lloyd  Morgan’s  Comparative  Psychology,  chapter  Memory 
in  Animals. 


190 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  SUGGESTION. 


by  saying  that  if  we  can  not  make  it  fit  it  is  because 
ultimate  facts  are  inexplicable.’  ”  The  class  of  phe¬ 
nomena  which  the  associationist  school  takes  to  frame 
its  theory  of  the  ego  are  feelings  unaware  of  each  other. 
The  class  of  phenomena  the  ego  presents  are  feelings  of 
which  the  latter  are  intensely  aware  of  those  that  went 
before.  The  two  classes  do  not  “  fit,”  and  no  exercise 
of  ingenuity  can  ever  make  them  fit.  No  shufflmg  of 
unaware  feelings  can  make  them  aware.  In  another 
place  Prof.  James  says:  “This  inexplicable  tie  which 
connects  the  feelings,  this  6  something  in  common 5  by 
which  they  are  linked  and  which  is  not  the  passing 
feelings  themselves,  but  something  6  permanent ’  of 
which  we  can  6  affirm  nothing  ’  save  its  attributes  and 
phenomena,  what  is  it  but  the  metaphysical  substance 
come  again  to  life  ?  ” 

Prof.  James’s  criticism  of  associationism  is  certainly 
just  and  acute,  and  one  can  not  help  agreeing  with 
him.  But  now,  what  is  Prof.  James’s  own  theory  of 
personality  ?  The  passing  thought,  according  to  Prof. 
James,  is  the  thinker.  Each  passing  wave  of  conscious¬ 
ness,  each  passing  thought,  is  aware  of  all  that  has  pre¬ 
ceded  in  consciousness  ;  each  pulse  of  thought  as  it  dies 
away  transmits  its  title  of  ownership  of  its  mental  con¬ 
tent  to  the  succeeding  thought.  To  put  it  in  his  own 
words : 

“  Each  thought  out  of  a  multitude  of  other  thoughts 
of  which  it  may  think  is  able  to  distinguish  those  which 
belong  to  its  own  ego  from  those  which  do  not.  The 
former  have  a  warmth  and  intimacy  about  them  of 
which  the  latter  are  completely  devoid.  .  .  .  Each  pulse 
of  cognitive  consciousness,  each  thought,  dies  away  and 
is  replaced  by  another.  The  other,  among  the  things  it 
knows,  knows  its  own  predecessor,  and  finding  it 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  PERSONALITY. 


191 


c  warm,’  greets  it,  saying,  ‘  Thou  art  mine  and  part  of 
the  same  self  with  me.’  Each  later  thought,  knowing 
and  including  thus  the  thoughts  which  went  before,  is 
the  final  receptacle,  and,  appropriating  them,  is  the  final 
owner  of  all  they  contain  and  own.  Each  thought  is 
thus  born  an  owner,  and  dies  owned,  transmitting  what¬ 
ever  it  realizes  as  itself  to  its  own  later  proprietor.  As 
Kant  says,  it  is  as  if  elastic  balls  were  to  have  not  only 
motion  but  knowledge  of  it,  and  a  first  ball  were  to 
transmit  both  its  motion  and  its  consciousness  to  a 
second,  which  took  both  up  into  its  consciousness  and 
passed  them  to  a  third,  until  the  last  ball  held  all  that 
the  other  balls  had  held,  and  realized  it  as  its  own.  It 
is  this  trick  which  the  nascent  thought  has  of  immedi¬ 
ately  taking  up  the  expiring  thought  and  adopting  it 
which  is  the  foundation  of  the  appropriation  of  most  of 
the  remoter  constituents  of  the  self.  Who  owns  the 
last  self  owns  the  self  before  the  last,  for  what  possesses 
the  possessor  possesses  the  possessed.  ...  A  thing,” 
Prof.  James  goes  on  to  say,  “  can  not  appropriate  it¬ 
self — it  is  itself ;  and  still  less  can  it  disown  itself. 
There  must  be  an  agent  of  the  appropriating  and  dis¬ 
owning  ;  but  that  agent  we  have  already  named.  It  is 
the  thought  to  whom  the  various  ‘constituents’  are 
known.  That  thought  is  a  vehicle  of  choice  as  well 
as  of  cognition,  and  among  the  choices  it  makes  are 
those  appropriations  or  repudiations  of  its  own.  But 
the  thought  never  is  an  object  in  its  own  hands.  It 
.  .  .  is  the  hook  from  which  the  chain  of  past  selves 
dangles,  planted  firmly  in  the  present.  .  .  .  Anon  the 
hook  itself  will  drop  into  the  past  with  all  it  carries  and 
then  be  treated  as  an  object  and  appropriated  by  a  new 
thought  in  the  new  present,  which  will  serve  as  a  living 
hook  in  its  turn. 


192 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  SUGGESTION. 


“  To  illustrate  by  diagram,  let  A,  B,  and  C  stand 
for  three 


successive  thoughts,  each  with  its  object  inside  of  it. 
If  B’s  object  be  A  and  C’s  object  be  B,  then  A,  B,  and 
C  would  stand  for  three  pulses  in  a  consciousness  of 
personal  identity.” 

Like  the  associationists,  Prof.  James  looks  for  per¬ 
sonality  in  the  function  of  memory ;  like  them,  he  re¬ 
gards  personality  as  a  series,  with  the  only  difference 
that  he  postulates  a  synthesis  of  that  series  in  each 
passing  thought.  Each  thought  has  the  title  to  the 
content  of  previous  thoughts,  but  this  momentary 
thought  does  not  know  itself.  The  thought  can  only 
be  known  when  dead,  when  it  has  become  a  content  of 
a  succeeding  wave  of  consciousness.  In  short,  Prof. 
James  seems  to  think  that  personality  is  a  synthesis  of 
a  series,  and  that  this  synthesis  is  not  conscious  of  itself. 
We  see  at  once  that  although  Prof.  James  attacks  so 
valiantly  and  justly  the  association  theory,  he  himself 
falls  into  an  error  no  less  flagrant — he  omits  from  his 
account  of  personality  the  fact  of  self-consciousness. 

Mill,  in  starting  with  a  disconnected  series  of  sensa¬ 
tions  and  ideas,  could  not  see  how  that  series  could 
possibly  become  synthetized  and  conscious  of  itself  as 
such,  as  a  series,  and  he  was  compelled  to  fall  back  in 
that  refuge  of  ignorance,  the  unknowable,  placing  this 
synthetic  conscious  activity  into  a  noumenal  world,  but 
he  at  least  clearly  saw  that  personality  requires  self- 
consciousness.  Prof.  James,  however,  while  accounting 
for  the  synthetic  side  of  the  “  pure  ego,”  totally  omits 


THE  PROBLEM  OP  PERSONALITY. 


193 


the  self-conscious  side  of  personality.  He  even  em¬ 
phasizes  this  lack  of  self-consciousness  in  the  passing 
thought,  the  present  personal  thinker.  “  All  appropria¬ 
tions,”  he  says,  “  may  be  made  to  it,  by  a  thought  not 
at  the  moment  immediately  cognised  by  itself.”  If, 
then,  the  passing  thought  can  be  known  only  as  content, 
can  there  possibly  be  self-consciousness  at  all  ?  Accord¬ 
ing  to  Prof.  James  the  passing  thought  with  its  syn- 
thetized  series  of  contents  can  be  known  only  as  object, 
but  then  the  consciousness  of  an  object  is  not  self-con¬ 
sciousness.  Where,  then,  does  the  fact  of  self-conscious.- 
ness  come  in?  Self-consciousness  can  not  be  in  the 
mere  object-consciousness,  for  in  it  the  object  occupies 
the  whole  field  of  mental  vision,  and,  besides,  the  ob¬ 
ject  content  is  but  the  material,  the  inheritance  of 
former  dead  owners.  Self-consciousness,  again,  is  not 
present  in  the  passing  thought,  for  the  passing  thought, 
according  to  Prof.  James,  “can  not  own  itself”;  nor 
can  self-consciousness  be  in  the  succeeding  thought,  for 
then  the  previous  thought  has  already  perished,  and  it 
is  now  another  thought  that  is  conscious  of  the  thought 
gone — a  state  that  can  in  no  wise  be  self-consciousness ; 
it  is  rather  other-consciousness.  How,  then,  is  self-con¬ 
sciousness  possible  ?  Prof.  James  attempts  to  escape 
from  the  difficulties  by  making  the  thoughts  feel 
“warm,”  but  surely  “animal  warmth”  advances  us 
very  little  toward  a  clear  comprehension  of  the  “  pure 
ego.”  A  warm  thought,  whatever  it  may  mean  to 
Prof.  James,  is  as  much  an  object  as  a  cold  thought. 

The  fact  is  that  Prof.  James,  in  asserting  that  the 
present  passing  thought  or  the  present  moment  of  con¬ 
sciousness  lacks  knowledge  of  itself,  seems  to  have  for¬ 
gotten  his  own  distinction  of  the  two  kinds  of  knowl¬ 
edge — knowledge  about  and  knowledge  of  acquaintance. 


194 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  SUGGESTION. 


The  blind  man  who  knows  the  theory  and  laws  of  light 
has  knowledge  about,  but  he  sadly  lacks  the  most  essen¬ 
tial  knowledge — knowledge  of  acquaintance;  he  does 
not  know  what  the  sensation  of  light  is  in  itself — that 
is,  he  has  mediate  but  not  immediate  knowledge.  Now 
the  most  that  Prof.  James  can  claim  is  that  the  present 
thought  lacks  knowledge  about,  but  it  nevertheless  does 
possess  knowledge — knowledge  of  acquaintance.  Prof. 
James,  however,  is  not  altogether  unaware  of  it,  for  in 
asserting  that  “  the  present  moment  is  the  darkest  in  the 
whole  series,”  he  also  tells  us  that  “  it  may  feel  its  own 
immediate  existence,”  but  he  hastens  to  qualify  this  last 
statement  of  his  by  adding,  “  hard  as  it  is  by  direct  in¬ 
trospection  to  ascertain  the  fact.”  Even  if  it  be  granted 
that  Prof.  James  did  keep  in  mind  the  two  kinds  of 
knowledge,  and  denied  to  the  passing  thought  only 
knowledge  about,  he  is  still  in  the  wrong ;  for  self-con¬ 
sciousness  partakes  of  the  two  kinds  of  knowledge  :  it  is 
both  knowledge  about  and  knowledge  of  acquaintance. 

A  close  examination  of  the  two  theories  shows  that 
neither  the  bundle  of  associationism  nor  Prof.  James’s 
passing  thought  gives  us  a  true  account  of  personality. 
The  “  pure  ego  ”  or  personality  is  not  a  series,  for  a 
disconnected  series  can  not  possibly  make  a  unity  a 
person ;  nor  is  personality  a  mere  synthesis  of  passing 
thoughts,  for  there  may  be  synthesis  or  memory  in  each 
passing  wave  of  consciousness  and  still  no  personality. 
The  consciousness  of  a  dog,  of  a  cat,  may  fully  answer 
Prof.  James’s  description  of  the  “pure  ego.”  The 
central  point  of  the  ego  or  of  personality  lies  in  the 
fact  of  the  thought  knowing  and  critically  controlling 
itself  in  the  very  process  of  thinking ,  in  the  very  mo¬ 
ment  of  that  thoughts  existence. 

Prof.  James  is  certainly  wrong  in  asserting  that  in 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  PERSONALITY. 


195 


personality  tlie  passing  thought  does  not  know  itself  in 
the  moment  of  thinking.  He  seems  to  assume  that  the 
knowledge  of  an  object  and  the  knowledge  of  that 
knowledge  require  two  distinct  pulses  of  consciousness, 
two  distinct  thoughts ;  but,  as  we  pointed  out  above  in  our 
discussion,  if  this  were  the  case  self-consciousness  would 
have  been  an  impossibility.  The  fact  is  that  the  knowl¬ 
edge  of  an  object  and  the  knowledge  of  that  knowl¬ 
edge  do  not  require  two  distinct  moments,  but  only  one 
and  the  same  moment.  Once  a  thought  has  come  to 
assert  “I  feel,”  the  knowledge  and  the  feeling  constitute 
one  and  the  same  thought.  The  pure  ego,  the  “  I,” 
taken  by  itself  means  consciousness  of  consciousness. 
What  the  “  I  ”  asserts  is  that  there  is  present  conscious¬ 
ness  of  consciousness.  “I  feel”  means  that  there  is 
consciousness  of  a  feeling  along  with  consciousness  of 
that  consciousness.  The  “  I  know,  and  I  know  that  I 
know,”  and  the  “  I  know  that  I  know  that  I  know,”  and 
so  on,  do  not  require  so  many  separate  thought-moments, 
but  only  one  and  the  same  moment  of  self-consciousness. 

Prof.  James’s  defective  analysis  of  personality 
seems  to  be  the  result  of  his  imperfect  discrimination 
between  the  present  moment  of  consciousness  and  the 
present  time-moment.  It  is  this  want  of  discrimination 
between  the  two  moments  that  underlies  the  ideal 
structure  of  Hegelianism;  and  although  Prof.  James* 
kicks  vigorously  against  Hegel,  he  still  can  not  free 
himself  from  the  influence  of  that  great  dialectician. 
Prof.  James,  in  fact,  is  a  Hegelian  at  heart. 

Moments,  Hegel  tell  us,  f  are  in  a  continuous  flux ; 
the  now  and  the  here ,  the  this  and  the  that ,  change  with 


*  See  James’s  essay  On  Some  Hegelisms. 

f  See  Hegel’s  Phanomenologie,  chapter  Die  sinnliche  Gewissheit. 


196 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  SUGGESTION. 


each  coming  moment.  No  sooner  does  the  moment  of 
consciousness  posit  its  now ,  than  the  moment  is  changed 
and  the  now  turns  out  to  be  something  different.  The  ne¬ 
gation  lies  on  the  very  face  of  the  moment’s  affirmation. 
The  moment  of  consciousness  taken  in  its  immediacy  can 
not  know  itself,  because  it  negates  itself  in  the  very  act 
of  its  affirmation.  “  Le  moment  ouje  jparle  est  dejd  loin 
de  moi.”  It  is  partly  this  consideration  that  Prof.  James 
has  in  mind  when  he  declares  that  “  the  present  moment 
of  consciousness  is  the  darkest  in  the  whole  series.” 

Before  we  proceed  further  with  our  discussion  it 
would  not  be  amiss  to  point  out  the  fact  that  Prof. 
James  is  also  guilty  of  confounding  two  widely  different 
moments  :  the  present  moment  of  consciousness  and  the 
present  moment  of  self-consciousness.  This  is,  in  fact, 
implied  by  his  whole  theory  of  the  passing  thought  with 
no  self-consciousness  to  back  it ;  and  this  confusion  of 
the  two  moments  is  especially  clearly  revealed  in  the 
“darkness  of  the  present  moment  of  consciousness.” 
Prof.  James  means  by  the  present  moment  of  conscious¬ 
ness  the  present  thought,  the  present  thinker — that  is, 
the  present  moment  of  self-consciousness.  Now,  even  if 
it  be  granted  that  the  present  moment  of  consciousness 
be  “the  darkest  in  the  whole  series,”  the  present  moment 
of  self-consciousness  is  certainly  the  brightest  of  all. 

Turning  now  to  the  Hegelian  flux  fallacy — a  fal¬ 
lacy  committed  by  many  a  philosopher  and  psycholo¬ 
gist — we  find  that  two  qualitatively  different  moments 
are  lumped  together  into  one,  namely,  the  present 
time  moment  and  the  present  moment  of  conscious¬ 
ness.  "While  in  the  schema  of  objective  time  the  pres¬ 
ent  moments  are  in  a  continuous  flux,  the  present  mo¬ 
ments  of  consciousness  are  far  from  being  in  a  parallel 
incessant  change.  The  moments  in  the  schema  of  time 


THE  PROBLEM  OP  PERSONALITY. 


m 


may  go  on  flowing,  bnt  the  present  moment  of  con¬ 
sciousness  may  still  remain  unchanged  ;  nay,  it  is  even 
fully  conceivable  that  a  present  moment  of  consciousness 
should  fill  a  whole  eternity.  The  radical  difference  of 
those  two  moments  is  well  illustrated  in  the  popular 
story  of  the  monk,  who  happened  to  listen  to  the  song 
of  a  bird  from  paradise  for  but  a  single  moment  and 
found  that  meanwhile  a  thousand  years  had  passed 
away. 

The  present  moment  of  consciousness  does  not 
change  with  the  change  of  the  present  time  moment ; 
the  two  moments  are  totally  different  in  their  nature. 
Now  the  moment  of  consciousness  not  being  a  time 
moment,  not  being  in  a  continuous  flux  as  the  latter  is, 
may  include  as  well  its  own  consciousness,  and  thus  be 
a  moment  of  self-consciousness ;  and  as  a  matter  of  fact 
a  present  moment  of  self-consciousness  does  include  the 
knowledge  of  the  present  moment  of  consciousness 
within  the  selfsame  present  moment. 

Prof.  James  passes  a  severe  criticism  on  Hume  for 
not  making  his  ego-bundle  a  little  more  of  a  decent 
whole;  he  censures  Hume  for  denying  the  synthetic 
unity  of  the  pure  ego.  On  similar  grounds  may  Prof. 
James  be  criticised  for  not  making  his  evanescent 
thinker  a  little  more  of  a  decent  person ;  he  may  be 
censured  for  not  seeing  that  knowledge  of  the  con¬ 
scious  moment  within  the  very  present  moment  of  con¬ 
sciousness  ;  in  other  words,  that  self-consciousness  is  of 
the  very  essence  of  the  pure  ego. 

The  central  point  of  personality  is  self-conscious¬ 
ness.  A  series  of  moments-consciousness  cognized  as  a 
unity  or  synthesis  of  many  moments  in  one  thought,  or 
by  one  thought,  is  not  at  all  an  indispensable  prerequi¬ 
site  of  personality.  We  can  fully  conceive  an  eternal 


198 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  SUGGESTION. 


moment  c?f  self-consciousness  with  no  preceding  mo¬ 
ments  to  synthetize,  and  still  such  a  moment  of  self- 
consciousness  is  no  doubt  a  personality.  An  ego  of 
such  a  type  is  not  constituted  of  a  series  of  moments, 
and  has  therefore  neither  memory  nor  personal  iden¬ 
tity  ;  and  still  such  an  ego  is  a  person,  and  possibly  the 
most  perfect  of  persons,  since  the  personality,  independ¬ 
ent  of  all  time,  is  completely  synthetized  by  the  very 
nature  of  its  self-conscious  being.  We  can  again  con¬ 
ceive  a  being  with  distinct  pulses  in  each  moment  of 
self-consciousness.  Each  pulse  of  consciousness,  how¬ 
ever,  being  a  moment  of  self-consciousness,  is  certainly 
of  the  nature  of  personality.  We  have  here  an  ob¬ 
jective  series  of  moments  of  self-consciousness,  origi¬ 
nating  from  the  primitive  life  consciousness,  but  each 
moment  remaining  distinct  in  itself,  not  owned,  not 
synthetized  by  the  succeeding  moment  of  self-con¬ 
sciousness.  This  type  of  self-consciousness  has  a  series, 
but  no  synthesis,  no  memory,  no  personal  identity. 
On  the  other  hand,  there  may  be  a  series  of  pulses  of 
consciousness,  there  may  be  memory,  there  may  be  a 
synthesis  of  all  the  preceding  moments  in  each  pass¬ 
ing  moment  of  consciousness,  and  still  if  there  is 
no  self-consciousness  such  a  consciousness  is  certain¬ 
ly  no  personality.  Neither  a  connected  series  of 
moments  nor  their  synthesis  is  of  the  essence  of  per¬ 
sonality  ;  it  is  only  consciousness  of  consciousness,  the 
knowledge  of  consciousness  within  the  same  moment 
of  consciousness;  in  short,  it  is  only  the  moment  of 
self-consciousness  that  makes  of  a  consciousness  a  per¬ 
sonality. 

Consciousness  and  self-consciousness  may  hypothet¬ 
ically  be  arranged  in  the  following  series  of  stages  or 
types : 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  PERSONALITY. 


199 


I.  Desultory  consciousness.  In  this  type  of  con¬ 
sciousness  there  is  no  connection,  no  association,  be¬ 
tween  one  moment  of  consciousness  and  another ;  there 
is  certainly  no  synthesis  of  moments,  and  consequently  no 
memory,  no  recognition,  no  self-consciousness,  no  person¬ 
ality.  This  type  of  consciousness  may  have  its  repre¬ 
sentatives  in  the  psychic  life  of  the  lowest  invertebrates. 

II.  Synthetic  consciousness.  In  this  type  of  con¬ 
sciousness  there  is  synthesis  of  the  preceding  moments  in 
each  passing  moment,  but  there  is  no  recognition.  For¬ 
mer  experiences  are  reinstated  in  consciousness,  but  they 
are  not  recognised  as  such.  Instinctive  consciousness 
falls  naturally  under  this  type  of  mental  activity.  Mem¬ 
ory  is  certainly  present,  but  it  is  objective  in  its  nature  ; 
it  exists  only  for  the  observer,  not  for  the  individual  con¬ 
sciousness  itself.  The  subjective  side  of  memory,  the 
projection  of  the  present  experience  into  the  subjective 
past  of  the  present  moment  consciousness,  is  wanting ; 
and,  of  course,  it  goes  without  saying  that  the  synthetic 
consciousness  has  no  self-consciousness,  no  personality. 

III.  Recogniti/ve  consciousness.  In  this  type  of  con¬ 
sciousness  there  is  not  only  an  objective  synthesis  of 
the  preceding  moments  in  each  moment  of  conscious¬ 
ness,  but  there  is  also  present  a  subjective  synthesis.* 
Former  experiences  are  not  only  simply  reinstated  in 
consciousness,  but  they  are  also  recognised  as  such. 
This  type  of  mental  activity  may  be  represented  by  the 
consciousness  of  the  higher  vertebrate  animals.  There 
is  here  memory,  there  is  the  projection  of  the  present 
into  the  subjective  past,  there  is  recognition,  but  there 
is  no  self-consciousness,  no  personality. 


*  It  is  this  type  of  consciousness  that  answers  Prof.  James’s  de¬ 
scription  of  personality. 

14 


200 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  SUGGESTION. 


I Y.  Desultory  self-consciousness.  This  type  of  self- 
consciousness  has  no  synthesis  in  each  present  moment 
of  the  preceding  past  moments  of  self-consciousness. 
Such  a  form  of  consciousness  may  be  regarded  as  a 
series  of  independent,  instable  personalities  coming  like 
bubbles  to  the  surface  of  consciousness  and  bursting 
without  leaving  any  marked  trace  behind  them.  It  is 
evident  that  this  type  of  personality,  although  it  has  a 
series  of  moments,  has  no  memory  of  that  series,  nor 
has  it  any  personal  identity. 

Y.  Synthetic  self-consciousness.  This  form  of  self- 
consciousness  has  a  series  of  moments,  and  all  the  mo¬ 
ments  in  the  series  can  be  included  in  and  owned  by  each 
present  moment  of  self-consciousness.  The  moments  in 
the  series  are  intimately  linked  and  intertwined.  Each 
moment  synthetizes,  owns,  knows,  and  controls  the  pre¬ 
ceding  ones.  This  type  of  consciousness  possesses  syn¬ 
thesis,  reproduction,  recognition,  personality,  personal 
identity,  and  is  represented  by  man’s  mental  activity. 

YI.  The  eternal  moment  of  self-consciousness.  In 
this  form  of  self-consciousness  there  is  no  series ;  it  is 
but  one  moment.  Memory  and  personal  identity  are 
not  present  because  they  are  superfluous,  since  there  is 
no  preceding  series  to  synthetize.  This  type  of  per¬ 
sonality  may  transcend  the  synthetic  personality,  as  the 
former  may  contain  the  whole  content  of  all  complete 
lines  of  series  in  one  eternal  moment  of  self-conscious¬ 
ness.  This  form  of  self-consciousness  may  be  considered 
as  the  pure  type  of  personality ;  it  is  the  perfect  person.* 

*  I  must,  however,  add  that  this  last  type  of  personality  is  purely 
hypothetical,  and  if  I  brought  it  here  it  was  simply  to  emphasize  the 
pure  aspect  of  personality. 


CHAPTER  XX. 


THE  ELEMENTS  AND  STAGES  OF  SUBCONSCIOUSNESS. 

From  the  standpoint  gained  in  our  discussion  on 
personality  or  the  “  pure  ego  ”  we  can  once  more  turn 
to  the  study  of  the  secondary  self.  The  secondary  or 
subconscious  self  must  not  be  regarded  as  an  individual ; 
it  is  only  a  form  of  mental  life,  and  as  such  may  belong 
to  one  of  the  three  types  of  consciousness.  It  may  be 
desultory,  synthetic,  or  recognitive.  The  secondary 
consciousness  is  recognitive  at  its  highest,  desultory  at 
its  lowest. 

The  subconscious  self  is  a  co-ordination  of  many 
series  of  moments-consciousness.  In  the  subconscious¬ 
ness  series  of  moments-consciousness  form  groups,  sys¬ 
tems,  communities,  clusters,  constellations.  This  co¬ 
ordination  of  series,  however,  can  be  dissolved ;  each 
separate  series  again  can  be  broken  up  into  its  constitu¬ 
ent  moments,  which  may  be  endowed  with  a  conscious 
tendency  to  reunite  at  a  stated  interval.  The  content 
of  the  isolated  moment  is  not  any  more  represented  in 
the  moments  of  the  other  series,  and  is  not  therefore 
known  or  cognized  by  them.  The  inhibited  content 
knowledge  or  object  consciousness  has  not  disappeared ; 
it  is  still  present  in  the  dissociated  moments,  and  can 
be  revealed  by  different  methods. 

Synthesis  and  catalysis  of  moments-consciousness 

are  at  the  heart  of  the  subconscious. 

201 


202 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  SUGGESTION. 


The  catalysis  of  moments- consciousness  is  often 
brought  about  by  psychic  stimuli  under  the  conditions 
of  suggestibility — conditions  that  favour  a  dissociation 
of  the  primary  from  the  secondary  consciousness.  Once 
this  dissociation  is  effected,  a  catalysis  of  the  constella¬ 
tions  of  moments-consciousness  constituting  the  sub- 
consciousness  may  be  produced  by  suggestion  and  by 
other  means.  A  dissociation  of  consciousness  may  be 
effected  by  the  impression  of  a  very  powerful  stimulus, 
such  as  a  strong  shock.  The  conditions  of  suggestibil¬ 
ity — conditions  that  favour  disaggregation  of  the  upper 
from  the  lower  consciousness,  conditions  that  lay  bare 
the  subconscious  self  to  the  influence  of  external  stim¬ 
uli — are  here  brought  about  by  the  overpowering  in¬ 
tensity  of  the  stimulus.  An  intense,  overpowering 
shock  limits  the  activity  of  the  voluntary  muscles — fre¬ 
quently  paralyzes  them  momentarily,  and  sometimes  for 
an  appreciable  period  of  time  fixes  the  attention  on  the 
impression  to  the  exclusion  of  all  else,  strongly  inhibits 
all  other  mental  activity,  and  narrows  the  field  of  the 
upper  consciousness — in  fact,  very  often  totally  removes 
it.  The  subconscious  self  thus  emerges. 

If  the  stimulus  is  too  strong  even  for  the  secondary 
self,  the  disaggregation  goes  still  further,  the  subcon¬ 
sciousness  becomes  disaggregated  in  its  turn,  and  falls 
from  the  plane  of  recognitive  to  that  of  synthetic  con¬ 
sciousness.  With  a  further  increase  of  the  stimulus 
the  dissolution  goes  on  further,  the  disaggregation 
becomes  deeper,  and  the  subconsciousness  falls  from 
the  level  of  synthetic  to  that  of  desultory  conscious¬ 
ness. 

Now,  if  such  a  disaggregation  of  moments  conscious¬ 
ness  occurs,  whatever  may  be  the  cause  of  it,  if  the  mo¬ 
ments  can  not  get  synthetized,  and  if  new  combinations 


THE  ELEMENTS  OF  SUBCONSCIOUSNESS.  203 


with  different  psychic  contents  are  formed,  then  the 
result  is  amnesia — amnesia  for  that  particular  state  of 
moment-consciousness. 

We  must  discriminate  between  the  psychic  content 
that  may  be  characterized  as  the  moment-content  of 
consciousness  and  the  synthesis  of  that  content.  It  is 
this  synthesis  of  the  content  that  constitutes  the  nature 
of  a  moment-consciousness.  In  short,  a  moment-con¬ 
sciousness  is  content  plus  synthesis. 

Psychic  or  moment-contents  may  be  represented  in 
the  synthesis  of  different  moments-consciousness,  so 
that  while  certain  moments-consciousness  may  be  en¬ 
tirely  cut  off  from  given  psychic  contents,  other  mo¬ 
ments  may  be  in  full  possession  of  all  that  material. 
Thus  there  may  be  loss  of  mental  experience  and  am¬ 
nesia  for  certain  states  of  consciousness,  and  at  the 
same  time  full  presence  of  that  mental  experience  as 
well  as  recollection  of  it  in  other  states  of  conscious¬ 
ness. 

The  relation  of  the  moments-consciousness  to  the 
psychic  contents  and  their  synthesis  by  different  mo¬ 
ments-consciousness  at  different  levels  of  consciousness 
may  be  graphically  represented  in  the  following  dia¬ 
gram  : 


204 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  SUGGESTION. 


In  this  diagram  the  granulated  circles  a ,  h,  c,  d,  e, 
f,  g,  h  stand  for  the  moment-content  or  masses  of 
psychic  material,  while  the  nucleated  circles  A,  B,  C,  D, 
the  centres  of  which  form  foci  for  the  convergent  lines 
from  different  inoments-content,  stand  for  moments- 
consciousness.  A  synthetizes  «,  b9  c,  f\  B  synthetizes 
a,  c,  d,f\  C  synthetizes  c,  e,  g ;  and  D  synthetizes  all 
the  moments-content.  Moment-content  c  is  repre¬ 
sented  in  all  the  moments-consciousness,  while  the  rest 
of  the  moments-content  are  represented  in  different 
combinations  in  each  of  the  moments-consciousness. 

Furthermore,  there  may  also  he  communications 
between  the  moments-consciousness.  Some  of  the 
psychic  material  directly  presented  to  and  synthetized 
by  one  moment-consciousness  may  he  transmitted  to 
and  represented  in  another  moment.  Such  is,  in  fact, 
very  often  the  case.  The  dotted  line  that  connects  A 
with  C  represents  such  a  relation. 

The  moments-consciousness  may  be  connected  by 
association  of  contiguity,  so  that  if  one  begins  to  func¬ 
tionate,  the  other  moment  is  also  set  into  activity.  The 
line  connecting  B  and  C  represents  such  a  relation. 

D  represents  a  moment-consciousness  which,  al¬ 
though  it  synthetizes  all  the  moments-content,  is  alto¬ 
gether  dissociated  from  the  rest  of  moments-conscious¬ 
ness. 

This  stage  of  synthesis  may  be  termed  primary 
synthesis,  or  synthesis  of  apprehension. 

There  may  be  a  higher  stage  of  synthesis  than  the 
one  just  considered,  and  that  is  when  a  moment-con¬ 
sciousness  synthetizes  not  only  moments-content  but 
also  moments-consciousness.  This  stage  of  synthesis 
may  be  termed  secondary  synthesis,  or  synthesis  of 
apprehension  und  reproduction. 


THE  ELEMENTS  OF  SUBCONSCIOUSNESS.  205 


The  secondary  stage  of  synthesis  may  be  repre¬ 
sented  in  the  following  diagram : 


The  moment- consciousness  E  in  the  diagram  is  rep¬ 
resented  to  he  one  that  possesses  synthesis  of  apprehen¬ 
sion  and  reproduction.  Such  a  moment-consciousness 
may  be  termed  the  synthetic  moment-consciousness, 
because  it  is  in  this  stage  that  synthetic  consciousness 
of  whole  series  of  moments-consciousness  first  appears. 

The  synthetic  moment-consciousness  may  change 
its  synthetized  moments-consciousness  as  well  as  its 
moments-content,  but  still,  from  the  very  nature  of 
this  type  of  consciousness,  the  fluctuations  themselves 
are  synthetized  in  their  turn,  for  each  successive  beat 
of  synthetic  consciousness  or  each  synthetic  moment- 
consciousness  synthetizes  all  the  preceding  moments. 
The  beats  of  synthetic  consciousness  may  be  graphic¬ 
ally  represented  as  follows : 


O  O 
£  a 

!  J  •§ 
'  5  £ 


©  a  • 

£  * 


J1 

III 


«  p 


«M  P  In' 

0.2  H 

_  ®  *-*  a 
J2  fl  fl  M 

1«  4>  ®  3 

^■S  g-2 

C3  £  O!  o 
Pi  P.g  g 
>.  ©«&  § 
u 


Each  beat  of  synthetic  consciousness  is  represented 
by  one  of  the  concentric  circles  E,  E1?  E2,  Es,  each  sue* 
ceeding  circle  including  all  the  preceding  ones. 

In  the  moment  of  synthetic  consciousness,  as  we 


m  a 

^  a> 


rr  a 


206 

\ 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  SUGGESTION. 


THE  ELEMENTS  OF  SUBCONSCIOUSNESS.  207 


know  from  a  previous  discussion,*  the  former  synthetic 
moments  are  merely  reproduced,  but  they  are  not  rec¬ 
ognised  as  former,  as  past.  It  is  only  an  external  ob¬ 
server  who  occupies  a  higher  plane  than  that  of  the 
synthetic  consciousness,  it  is  only  such  an  observer 
who  can  notice  the  reproduction  in  the  synthetic  mo¬ 
ment.  There  is,  then,  a  higher  plane  of  consciousness 
where  a  new  synthesis  is  effected — that  of  recognition. 
This  synthesis  of  recognition  is  the  highest  stage  that 
mere  consciousness,  which  takes  as  yet  no  recognizance 
of  itself,  can  attain. 

The  stages  of  consciousness  and  their  interconnec¬ 
tions  in  relation  to  the  nature  and  range  of  growth  of 
the  subconscious  self  are  graphically  represented  in  the 
diagram  at  the  bottom  of  the  preceding  page. 


*  Vide  Chapter  XIX. 


CHAPTEK  XXI. 


THE  PHYSIOLOGY  AND  PATHOLOGY  OF  SUBCONSCIOUSNESS. 

The  mental  processes  of  association  and  aggrega¬ 
tion  of  psychic  contents  in  the  synthesis  of  moment- 
consciousness  and  the  including  of  the  moments-con- 
sciousness  in  synthesis  of  higher  and  higher  unities  can 
be  expressed  in  physiological  terms  of  cellular  activity. 
The  structure  of  the  cell  and  its  morphological  relation 
to  other  cells  can  give  us  a  glimpse  into  the  physio¬ 
logical  processes  that  run  parallel  to  mental  synthesis 
and  dissociation. 

The  nerve-cell,  as  the  reader  knows,  is  a  nucle¬ 
ated  mass  of  protoplasm  highly  complicated  in  its 
structure  and  organization.  The  nerve-cell  possesses 
many  filaments  or  “processes,’’  all  of  which,  called 
dendrons,  branch  repeatedly  and  terminate  in  a  net¬ 
work  of  multitudes  of  fibre-processes  representing  a 
greater  volume  than  the  cell  body  itself,  with  the  ex¬ 
ception  of  a  single  process  termed  neuraxon,  which 
remains  comparatively  unchanged  in  its  diameter  along 
its  whole  course  and  sends  out  but  a  few  branches 
called  collaterals.  The  terminals  of  collaterals  and 
neuro-axons  are  in  their  turn  split  into  a  comparatively 
small  number  of  branches  called  the  terminal  arbori¬ 
zation. 

If  we  inquire  as  to  the  connection  of  nerve-cells 
with  one  another,  we  find  that  no  nerve-cell  is  ana- 

208 


THE  PHYSIOLOGY  OF  SUBCONSCIOUSNESS.  209 


tomically  connected  with  other  cells.  Every  nerve¬ 
cell  with  all  its  processes  forms  a  distinct  and  isolated 
morphological  individual.  Every  nerve- cell  anatom¬ 
ically  considered  is  a  com¬ 
plete  unit.  The  processes 
coming  out  from  different 
nerve-cells  do  not  fuse  with 
processes  coming  out  from 
other  nerve-cells,  but  rather 
interlace  and  come  in  con¬ 
tact,  like  the  electrodes  of  a 
battery  in  forming  the  elec¬ 
tric  circuit.  Thus  neurologi¬ 
cal  investigations  point  to  the 
highly  significant  fact  that 
the  connections  among  the 
nerve-cells  are  not  of  an  ana¬ 
tomical  but  of  a  physiological 
nature.  The  association  of 
nerve-cells  is  not  organic ,  but 
functional. 

Nerve-cells  with  concomi¬ 
tant  psychic  moments-con- 
tent  come  into  contact  with 
other  nerve-cells  accompanied 
by  psychic  content  by  means 
of  their  fine  terminal  pro¬ 
cesses.  This  association  of 
cells  forms  a  group  whose 
physiological  function  has  a 
concomitant  mental  activity 
resulting  in  some  form  of 
psychic  synthesis.  By  means  of  association  fibres  the 
groups  are  organized  into  systems,  the  systems  into 


Nerve-cell  of  cortex  :  dr den- 
drons ;  n.,  neuraxon  ;  coll. 
collaterals  ;  cirb.,  terminal 
arborization. 


210 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  SUGGESTION. 


communities,  the  communities  into  clusters,  the  clusters 
into  constellations,  and  each  of  the  higher,  more  com¬ 
plex  aggregates  is  more  feebly  organized  by  less  stable 
association  fibres.  The  combination  of  groups  into  sys¬ 
tems  and  of  these  systems  into  clusters  and  constel¬ 
lations  by  means  of  association  fibres  have  as  their 
psychic  concomitants  higher  and  higher  forms  of  men¬ 
tal  syntheses.*  Thus  moments-content  are  synthetized 
in  the  unity  of  moments-consciousness,  and  the  latter 
are  synthetized  in  their  turn  in  higher  and  higher 
unities. 

The  simpler,  the  less  complicated  a  group  of  nerve- 
cells  is,  and  the  longer  and  more  frequent  their  fine 
processes  come  in  contact,  the  greater  is  the  tendency 
of  that  group  to  form  permanent  relations ;  and  the 
same  holds  true  of  systems  of  cells  in  communities, 
clusters,  and  constellations.  We  may  therefore  say 
that  the  organization  of  a  system  or  constellation  of 
cells  is  in  proportion  to  the  duration  and  frequency  of 
their  associative  activity. 

Groups  of  nerve-cells  with  a  more  or  less  stable  func¬ 
tion  become  gradually  organized  and  form  a  stable  or¬ 
ganization.  The  more  complex,  however,  a  system  of 
nerve-cells  is,  the  greater  is  its  instability,  and  in  the 
very  highest  systems  or  constellations  of  clusters  the 
instability  reaches  its  maximum.  The  instability  of  a 
system  is  in  proportion  to  its  complexity.  In  the  very 
highest  constellations  the  instability  is  extreme,  and  there 
is  going  on  a  continuous  process  of  variation.  Under 

*  The  difficulties  of  how  a  conglomeration  of  objective  units  can 
possibly  give  rise  to  a  unity  in  a  synthesis  are  excellently  well  dis¬ 
cussed  by  Prof.  W.  James  in  the  first  volume  of  his  Psychology. 
We  take  it  as  a  postulate  that  the  very  nature  of  mental  activity  is 
synthesis. 


THE  PHYSIOLOGY  OF  SUBCONSCIOUSNESS.  211 


the  action  of  the  slightest  external  or  internal  stimuli, 
such  unstable  systems  or  constellations  lose  their  equi¬ 
librium,  dissolve  and  form  new  systems,  or  enter  into 
combination  with  other  constellations.  On  the  psy¬ 
chical  side  we  have  the  continuous  fluctuation  of  the 
content  of  attention.  The  characteristic  trait  of  the 
highest  type  of  psycho-physical  life  under  the  ordinary 
stimuli  of  the  environment  is  a  continuous  process  of 
association  and  dissociation  of  constellations. 

As  the  stimuli  increase  in  their  intensity,  be  they 
of  an  external  or  internal  nature — be  they  toxic,  such 
as  the  influence  of  a  poison,  or  purely  mechanical, 
such  as  the  action  of  a  blow,  or  be  they  of  a  purely 
internal  psycho -physiological  character,  such  as  a  strong 
emotion — a  process  of  dissolution  sets  in,  and  the  highest, 
the  most  unstable,  the  least  organized  constellations  of 
clusters  are  the  first  to  dissolve.  With  the  further  in¬ 
crease  of  the  intensity  of  the  stimulus  the  dissolution 
goes  deeper  and  extends  further — the  simpler,  the  more 
stable,  the  more  organized  systems  become  dissolved. 
The  psycho-physical  content,  however,  does  not  disap¬ 
pear  with  the  dissolution  of  the  system ;  the  content  ex¬ 
ists  in  the  less  complex  forms  of  cell-associations,  and 
psychically  in  the  simpler  forms  of  mental  synthesis. 

The  same  result  may  be  effected  by  stimuli  of  less 
intensity  but  of  longer  duration.  A  durable  hurtful 
stimulus  is  in  fact  by  far  the  more  detrimental  to  the 
life  of  cell-aggregation.  The  pathological  process  of 
dissociation  and  disaggregation  may  be  regarded  as  a 
function  of  two  factors — of  duration  and  intensity. 

Such  a  dissociation  is  not  of  an  organic  but  of  a 
functional  character.  The  association  fibres  that  con¬ 
nect  groups  into  systems ,  communities ,  clusters ,  con¬ 
stellations  contract.  The  fine  processes  of  the  nerve - 


212 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  SUGGESTION. 


cells,  the  dendrons ,  or  the  terminal  arborization ,  or  the 
collaterals  that  touch  these  dendrons,  thus  forming  the 
elementary  group,  retract  and  cease  to  come  in  contact .* 

Association  fibres  combining  the  highest  constella¬ 
tions  are  the  first  to  give  way ;  they  are  the  latest  to 
arise  in  the  course  of  psycho-physical  evolution,  they 
are  the  most  unstable,  the  least  organized,  and  are  also 
the  first  to  succumb  to  the  process  of  dissolution.  The 
instability  of  association  fibres  is  proportionate  to  the 
complexity  and  instability  of  the  joined  clusters  and 
constellations. 

At  the  first  onslaught  of  inimical  stimuli  the  cell- 
communities  combined  into  clusters  and  constellations 
by  association  fibres  become  dissociated  and  independ¬ 
ent  of  one  another.  Cell-communities,  being  more 
firmly  organized  than  clusters  and  constellations,  of 
which  they  are  a  part,  and  acting  as  a  more  organized 
whole,  resist  longer  the  action  of  hurtful  stimuli.  The 
association-cells  that  connect  different  clustered  cell- 
communities  contract  or  retract  their  fine  terminal 
processes,  and  the  cluster  is  dissolved.  As  the  hurtful 
stimuli  become  more  intense,  the  systems  within  the 
cell-community,  though  more  firmly  organized  by  asso¬ 
ciation-fibres  than  the  clusters,  withdraw  in  their  turn 
from  the  action  of  the  hurtful  stimuli.  The  association- 
cells  that  combine  systems  into  communities  retract 
their  terminal  processes,  and  the  result  is  the  dissolu¬ 
tion  of  the  cell-community  into  its  constituent  systems, 
which  have  more  power  of  resistance  than  communities 
of  cells,  because  systems  are  far  more  stable,  far  better 


*  The  neuraxon  is  not  retracted  as  a  whole ;  it  may  remain  prac¬ 
tically  stationary  as  far  as  its  whole  length  is  concerned,  but  the 
fibrillae  by  contracting  withdraw  the  terminal  arborizations  for 
minute  distances,  and  the  same  holds  true  of  the  dendrons. 


THE  PHYSIOLOGY  OF  SUBCONSCIOUSNESS.  213 


organized.  As  the  stimuli  rise  in  intensity  the  process 
of  disaggregation  reaches  the  systems  and  they  fall 
asunder  into  groups.  With  the  further  increase  of  the 
intensity  of  the  hurtful  stimuli  the  process  of  disaggre¬ 
gation  affects  the  group  itself,  the  fine  processes  of  the 
nerve-cell,  the  dendrons  or  collaterals  and  the  terminal 
arborization  of  the  neuraxon  contract ,  withdraw  from 
the  hurtful  stimuli,  as  the  monocellular  organism  re¬ 
tracts  its  pseudopodia  from  the  influence  of  noxious 
stimuli.  Thus  the  groups  themselves  become  disso¬ 
ciated,  and  are  dissolved  into  a  number  of  simple  and 
isolated  nerve-cells.  For  plan  of  the  organization  of 
brain-cells,  see  Plate  Y. 

The  following  experiment,  made  at  my  request  by 
Mr.  R.  Floyd,  at  the  Pathological  Institute  of  the  Yew 
York  State  Hospitals,  tends  to  confirm  the  theory  of 
retractility  of  the  extensions  of  the  ganglion  cell  proto¬ 
plasm. 

Fig.  A  shows  the  retraction  of  one  of  the  ganglion 
cells  of  the  cockroach  in  the  living  state  ( Blatta  orien- 
talis)  under  the  influence  of  a 
strong  toxic  reagent,  corrosive 
sublimate.  The  outer  circular 
zone  indicates  the  normal  vol¬ 
ume  of  the  cell  in  the  living 
condition,  and  the  retracted  out¬ 
line  of  the  cell  indicates  the 
reduction  of  the  volume  after 
contact  with  the  corrosive  sub¬ 
limate.  The  protoplasmic  net¬ 
work  of  the  cell  having  become 

j  j  n  Fig.  A. — Retraction  of  the 

contracted  under  the  influence  ganglion  cell  body  (from 

of  this  toxic  reagent,  the  infer-  Y®  cockroach)  under  the 

°  7  influence  of  a  solution  of 

ence  seems  to  be  presented  that  corrosive  sublimate. 


214 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  SUGGESTION. 


the  fibrillse  of  the  dendrons,  and  perhaps  of  the  axon 
also,  which  are  continuous  with  the  fibrillar  network  in 
the  cell-body,  may  become  correspondingly  retracted. 
The  dendrons  are  not  shown  in  the  preparation,  but  the 
root  of  the  axon  with  its  parallel  fibrils  continuous  with 
the  cell-body  network  is  shown  at  the  right-hand  side. 

This  whole  process  of  dissolution  is  functional,  for 
the  disaggregation  occurs  only  in  the  different  forms 
of  cell  combinations.  The  cell  itself,  however,  with  all 
its  processes  remains  intact  and  organically  sound. 
With  the  removal,  therefore,  of  the  hurtful  stimuli, 
there  is  once  more  a  tendency,  on  account  of  the  habit 
acquired  from  previous  combination,  to  form  old  asso¬ 
ciations,  and  the  old  relations  and  functions  are  gradu¬ 
ally  restored.  In  short ,  until  the  process  of  dissolution 
reaches  the  individual  cell ,  the  process  is  not  of  an  or¬ 
ganic  but  of  a  f  unctional  character. 

All  functional  diseases  are  cases  of  psycho-physio¬ 
logical  disaggregation,  and  the  gravity  of  the  disease  is 
proportional  to  the  amount  of  dissociation.  A  func¬ 
tional  disease  or  functional  change  is  a  disaggregation 
of  clusters  and  systems  of  nerve-cells  with  their  con¬ 
comitant  moments-consciousness  and  moments-contents. 
This  disaggregation  consists  in  the  withdrawal  of  the 
simpler  and  better  organized  cell-colonies  from  the 
more  complex  systems,  and,  lastly,  in  the  withdrawal  of 
individual  cells  from  the  group  or  cell-colony.  The 
whole  process  of  dissociation  or  disaggregation  is  one 
of  contraction ,  of  shrinkage,  from  the  influence  of  hurt¬ 
ful  stimuli.  First,  the  most  unstable  association-fibres 
are  loosened,  and  communication  is  interrupted  in  the 
clusters  forming  the  highest  and  most  complex  con¬ 
stellations,  and  then,  as  the  intensity  of  the  stimuli  in¬ 
creases,  the  more  stable  association-fibres  are  loosened 


A  Plan  of  the  Organization  of  the  Brain  Cells  into  Groups,  Systems,  Communities,  Clusters, 

Constellations. 


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Finally,  clusters  are  aggregated  into  constellations  of  higher  and  higher  complexity  by  means  of  new  association 
cells  with  their  fibres ;  thus,  A  A  A  A  are  elementary  constellations ;  A,  somewhat  more  complex ;  B  and  C  being 
still  more  complex  ;  and,  finally,  S  represents  one  of  the  highest  forms  of  constellations. 


♦ 


PLATE 


THE  PHYSIOLOGY  OF  SUBCONSCIOUSNESS.  215 

from  the  systems  they  connect.  With  the  further  in¬ 
crease  of  the  stimuli  the  process  of  disaggregation  de¬ 
scends  still  lower,  to  the  elementary  group  formed  of 
individual  cells ;  the  cells  withdraw  the  terminal  pro¬ 
cesses  by  which  they  come  in  contact  with  those  of 
other  cells  in  the  same  group. 

In  post-hypnotic  states,  in  cases  that  go  under 
the  name  of  hysteria,  in  many  forms  of  aphasia,  in 
many  obscure  mental  diseases,  in  many  psychic  states 
subsequent  to  great  mental  shocks,  in  many  mental 
maladies  known  as  the  “  psychic  equivalent  of  epi¬ 
lepsy,”  *  we  meet  with  cases  of  different  degrees  of 
cell-disaggregations,  accompanied  by  all  shades  and 
forms  of  mental  dissociation  or  amnesia,  forms  and 
types  which  I  shall  discuss  further  on.  These  forms 
may  be  spontaneous,  as  in  cases  of  diseases,  or  they 
may  be  artificial,  as  in  the  case  of  hypnosis.  One 
psycho-pathological  process ,  however ,  underlies  all  the 
various  forms  of  functional  diseases ,  and  that  is  the 
process  of  cell-disaggregation ,  with  its  concomitant 
dissociation  of  moments -consciousness. f 


*  See  Dr.  Van  Gieson  and  Sidis,  Epilepsy  and  Expert  Testimony, 
New  York  State  Hospitals  Bulletin,  April,  1897. 

f  I  wish  here  to  express  my  acknowledgment  and  sincere  thanks 
to  Dr.  Ira  Van  Gieson,  Director  of  the  Pathological  Institute  of 
the  New  York  State  Hospitals,  for  his  kind  assistance  afforded  mv 
in  the  preparation  of  the  accompanying  plate. 


15 


CHAPTER  XXII. 


THE  CASE  OF  THE  KEY.  THOMAS  CARSON  HANNA. 

Important  as  the  problem  of  amnesia  is  for  psychol¬ 
ogy  and  psychiatry,  no  case  of  amnesia  has  been  studied 
carefully  and  experimented  on,  so  as  to  bring  out  the 
inner  nature  of  the  subconscious  self.  Fortunately,  a 
very  important  case  of  amnesia  recently  fell  under  my 
care  and  observation.  Dr.  S.  P.  Goodhart,  of  Hew 
York,  in  making  a  clinical  examination  of  a  case  of 
amnesia  and  not  finding  any  external  signs  of  organic 
lesion,  had  the  kindness  to  refer  the  case  to  me  for 
psychological  investigation.  Thanks  to  the  scientific 
spirit  and  excellent  facilities  for  research  work  at  the 
Pathological  Institute  of  the  Hew  York  State  Hos¬ 
pitals,  I  was  enabled  to  undertake  the  work.  Dr. 
Goodhart  was  so  much  interested  in  the  case  that  he 
gave  up  much  of  his  time  to  assist  me  in  my  psycho¬ 
logical  investigations  of  the  intricacies  of  this  case. 

This  case  of  amnesia  is  certainly  unique  in  the 
annals  of  psychiatry,  because  it  presents  such  a  rich 
store  of  manifold  phenomena  bearing  an  intimate  rela¬ 
tion  to  many  important  problems  in  the  science  of 
psychology,  and  especially  because  no  other  case  within 
my  knowledge  has  been  so  closely  and  vigilantly 
watched,  so  carefully  experimented  upon,  and  so  many 
momentous  results  elicited  concerning  the  nature  of 
the  subconscious.  From  a  clinical  standpoint,  too,  this 

216 


THE  CASE  OF  THE  REV.  THOMAS  C.  HANNA.  217 


case  of  amnesia  is  of  the  utmost  consequence,  on  ac¬ 
count  of  the  methods  worked  out  for  the  diagnosis  of 
different  types  of  amnesia.  From  a  practical  thera¬ 
peutic  standpoint  the  case  can  not  but  be  of  the  highest 
interest,  because  of  the  psycho-therapeutic  methods 
first  worked  out  and  applied  by  me  to  this  case  in  order 
to  effect  a  complete  cure. 

I  give  here  but  a  very  brief  outline  of  this  ex¬ 
tremely  interesting  case,  since  a  full  account  of  it, 
together  with  a  discussion  of  the  methods  used  and  the 
results  arrived  at,  will  appear  in  the  State  Hospitals’ 
Bulletin,  published  by  the  Hew  York  State  Hospitals. 
For  our  purpose,  meanwhile,  a  short  account  of  the  case 
will  suffice  to  reveal  the  presence  and  the  nature  of  the 
secondary  self,  to  work  out  the  different  forms  of  sub¬ 
conscious  states,  and  to  classify  the  different  types  of 
amnesia  to  which  these  states  may  give  rise. 

The  following  is  a  brief  statement  of  the  case : 

The  patient,  Kev.  Thomas  C.  Hanna,  of  Plantsville, 
Conn.,  twenty-five  years  of  age,  is  a  man  of  extraor¬ 
dinary  abilities  and  high  aspirations.  He  has  an  ex¬ 
cellent  university  education.  He  has  a  good  family 
history,  free  from  any  taint  of  degeneration.  He  is 
possessed  of  a  vigorous,  healthy  constitution  and  of  a 
strong  power  of  will.  On  April  15,  1897,  Mr.  Hanna 
met  with  an  accident ;  he  fell  from  a  carriage,  and  was 
picked  up  in  a  state  of  unconsciousness.  When  the 
patient  came  to  himself  he  was  like  one  just  born.  He 
lost  all  knowledge  acquired  by  him  from  the  date  of 
his  birth  up  to  the  time  of  the  accident.  He  lost  all 
power  of  voluntary  activity,  knew  nothing  of  his  own 
personality,  and  could  not  recognise  persons  or  objects. 
He  had,  in  fact,  no  idea  whatever  of  an  external  world. 
Objects,  distance,  time  did  not  exist  for  him.  Move- 


218 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  SUGGESTION. 


merits  alone  attracted  his  involuntary  attention,  and 
these  he  liked  to  have  repeated.  Nothing  remained  of 
his  past  life,  not  even  a  meaningless  word,  syllable,  or 
articulate  sound.  He  was  totally  deprived  of  speech. 
He  had  lost  all  comprehension  of  language.  The  con¬ 
versation  of  the  people  around  him  was  to  him  nothing 
but  sounds,  without  any  meaning.  He  had  lost  all  sense 
of  orderliness  in  his  responses  to  the  calls  of  Nature. 
The  patient  was  smitten  with  full  mental  blindness,  with 
the  malady  of  complete  oblivion.  Impressions  coming 
to  him  from  the  external  world  had  lost  their  meaning ; 
the  patient  did  not  know  how  to  interpret  them.  He 
was  like  a  newborn  babe.  The  patient  opened  his  eyes 
on  a  fresh  world.  Impressions  received  by  his  sense 
organs  kept  his  attention  busy  in  the  elaboration  of  his 
new  world  of  experience.  He  did  not  know,  could  not 
recognise  anything  from  his  former  life.  No  object, 
no  person,  however  intimate  and  near,  awakened  in  him 
even  the  vaguest  sense  of  familiarity. 

The  patient  had  to  learn  all  over  again.  He  soon 
regained  the  use  of  his  voluntary  muscles  from  invol¬ 
untary  movements  and  instruction.  He  learned  to  use 
his  arms  and  legs  in  walking  and  working,  and  ac¬ 
quired  a  knowledge  of  objects  and  their  distance ;  he 
no  longer  attempted  to  seize  his  own  image  in  the  mir¬ 
ror,  no  longer  stretched  out  his  hand  to  grasp  distant 
trees  or  far-off  shining  lights.  He  learned  to  know 
different  articles  of  food ;  he  no  longer  ate  apple,  core, 
and  stem,  nor  did  he  any  more  attempt  to  devour  cakes 
of  soap  given  to  him.  With  a  strong  intelligence  left 
entirely  intact  the  patient  learned  things  very  quickly. 
His  progress  in  the  acquirement  of  knowledge  was 
such  a  rapid  one  that  in  a  few  weeks  he  was  fairly  able 
to  comprehend  his  environment  and  to  communicate 


THE  CASE  OF  THE  REV.  THOMAS  C.  HANNA.  219 


with  people.  At  first  he  imitated  words  and  phrases 
heard,  thinking  that  this  would  help  him  to  make  his 
wants  known  to  others  ;  then  he  dropped  this  method, 
and  by  systematic  imitation  of  words  in  connection 
with  the  objects  they  indicated  the  patient  learned  to 
speak.  He  also  gained  a  knowledge  of  reading  and 
writing,  in  a  very  imperfect  way,  though.  In  reading, 
he  asked  for  the '  meaning  of  nearly  every  third  word, 
and  his  writing  was  like  that  of  a  child  who  had  just 
begun  to  learn  the  formation  of  letters.  His  reading 
was  extremely  slow,  hesitating,  and  his  handwriting 
awkward.  He  was  ambidextrous ;  he  could  write 
equally  well  with  both  hands,  something  the  patient 
could  not  achieve  before  the  accident. 

All  knowledge  of  his  life  before  the  accident  was 
totally  gone;  all  his  scholarly  attainments,  all  his 
higher  scientific  and  linguistic  acquirements,  all  the 
memories  of  his  former  experience,  seemed  to  have 
been  wiped  out  by  the  destructive  violence  of  the  catas¬ 
trophe.  Persons  whom  he  once  knew  intimately  had 
to  be  introduced  to  him  again.  He  could  not  recognise 
his  parents,  nor  the  young  lady  to  whom  he  was  at¬ 
tached.  From  a  later  inquiry  it  was  found  that  the 
patient  lost  his  sexual  instincts.  He  had  no  idea  of  the 
sexual  functions  and  of  the  difference  between  men 
and  women.  The  only  life  experience  known  to  him 
dated  from  the  time  of  the  accident.  He  was  prac¬ 
tically  but  a  few  weeks  old,  and  in  this  brief  period  of 
time  he  rapidly  passed  in  his  development  through  all 
the  stages  an  infant  passes  in  its  slow  growth  of  years. 

When  I  first  met  the  patient  I  found  him  in  a  state 
of  complete  amnesia.  To  quote  from  my  notes  taken 
at  that  time : 

“H.  has  absolutely  no  recollection  of  any  experi- 


220 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  SUGGESTION. 


ence  previous  to  the  accident.  His  former  life  is  com¬ 
pletely  gone  from  his  memory.  He  has  recollections 
only  for  such  events  of  his  life  as  have  occurred  since 
the  injury.  The  patient  is  like  one  just  born,  a  being 
that  had  just  entered  into  life.  Patient  says  4 1  know  ’ 
of  events  that  have  occurred  since  the  accident ;  of  ex¬ 
periences  previous  to  that  time  he  knows  from  reports, 
of  what  4  others  tell  him.’  He  regards  the  history  of 
his  life  before  the  accident  as  an  experience  that  had 
occurred  within  the  life  of  quite  a  different  person. 

44  He  is  hut  a  few  weeks  old,  and  no  memory  of 
his  previous  life  spontaneously  occurs  to  him.  The 
accident  may  be  considered  as  the  boundary  line  sepa¬ 
rating  two  distinct  lives  of  the  same  individual.  What 
had  occurred  in  his  former  life  before  the  accident  is 
unknown  to  the  personality  formed  after  the  accident. 
Two  selves  seem  to  dwell  within  II.  One  seems  to  be 
deadened,  crushed  in  the  accident,  and  the  other  is  a 
living  self  whose  knowledge  and  experience  are  but  of 
yesterday.  It  seems  to  be  a  case  of  double  conscious¬ 
ness,  and  the  patient  is  now  in  a  secondary  state.” 

Such  was  the  cursory  diagnosis  of  the  case  the  very 
first  time  I  met  the  Pev.  Th.  C.  Hanna,  and  I  was  glad  to 
find  that  the  diagnosis  was  fully  verified  by  the  results. 

The  patient  was  then  examined  and  tested  in  differ¬ 
ent  ways  and  was  found  perfectly  normal  in  all  other 
respects.  Ho  lesion  was  found  anywhere ;  no  abnor¬ 
mality  could  be  discovered  in  his  organic  or  psycho¬ 
motor  life.  He  was  well  and  healthy.  There  was  not 
the  least  disturbance  in  his  sense  organs,  no  sign  of 
peripheral  or  central  injury.  His  sensibility  and  re¬ 
actions  to  sense  stimuli  were  fully  normal. 

His  intelligence,  his  power  of  inference,  his  acute¬ 
ness  for  distinguishing  fine  points,  his  persistence  in 


THE  CASE  OF  THE  REV.  THOMAS  C.  HANNA.  221 


carrying  on  a  long  and  complicated  train  of  reasoning, 
were  truly  remarkable.  His  sense  of  number  and  his 
perception  of  form  and  symmetry  were  admirable.  He 
showed  the  superiority  of  his  mind  by  his  inquisitive¬ 
ness  and  his  great  anxiety  to  learn  new  things.  Al¬ 
though  he  had  not  yet  learned  (in  this  state)  his  frac¬ 
tions,  nor  did  he  know  anything  of  geometry,  he  still 
could  solve  very  complicated  problems  in  a  simple  way, 
making  the  best  use  of  the  knowledge  he  acquired. 

The  tenacity  with  which  he  retained  the  knowledge 
once  acquired  was  truly  astounding.  His  memory  was 
extraordinary,  and  whatever  was  mentioned  to  him  once 
was  retained  by  him  down  to  the  least  detail  ever 
after.  His  appreciation  of  the  beautiful  was  keen  ;  his 
disgust  for  the  ugly  was  extreme ;  he  shivered  and 
turned  away  at  the  sight  of  deformity.  He  was  ex¬ 
tremely  sensitive  to  the  harmonious.  In  his  morality 
he  was  as  pure  and  innocent  as  a  child.  What  struck 
me  especially  was  his  patience,  and  the  total  absence  of 
any  angry  moods.  The  only  flaw  was  the  incomplete¬ 
ness  of  his  acquired  material.  He  asked  the  meaning 
of  the  simplest  words,  did  not  know  the  spelling  of  the 
most  commonplace  names,  and  wondered  at  trite  things 
of  ordinary  life,  as  if  witnessing  something  unusual, 
something  he  had  “  never  seen  before,”  to  use  the  pa¬ 
tient’s  own  words. 

His  keen  sense  of  the  proportionate,  the  harmoni¬ 
ous,  and  the  musical,  his  delicate  appreciation  of  the 
good  and  the  beautiful,  his  remarkable  logical  acumen, 
his  great  power  of  carrying  on  a  long  train  of  reason¬ 
ing,  the  extraordinary  rapidity  and  facility  with  which 
he  acquired  new  knowledge,  the  immediate  use  to 
which  he  put  it,  the  significant  fact  that  in  the  course 
of  a  few  weeks  he  learned  to  speak  English  correctly, 


222 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  SUGGESTION. 


pronouncing  well  and  making  no  mistakes — all  that, 
taken  as  a  whole,  confirmed  me  in  the  conclusion  that 
the  old  personality  was  not  crushed  to  death,  that  it  was 
only  dissociated  from  the  rest  of  conscious  life,  and  that 
from  the  subconscious  depth  into  which  it  sunk  it  still 
exerted  a  great  influence  on  the  newly  formed  person¬ 
ality  of  the  patient. 

To  tap  the  subconscious  self  and  find  whether  or  not 
the  seemingly  dead  experiences  are  present  there,  the 
patient  was  asked  to  relate  his  dreams. 

“  I  have  two  kinds  of  dreams,’’  he  answered.  “  In 
the  one  kind  the  pictures  are  not  clear ;  I  can  recall, 
but  I  can  not  see  them  well.  In  the  other  kind  of 
dreams  it  is  so  clear  that  even  now  I  can  see  them  well.” 
The  first  kind  of  dreams,  the  indistinct  ones,  were  those 
commonplace  dreams  of  everyday  life.  They  were  all 
experiences  coming  from  the  patient’s  life  after  the  ac¬ 
cident.  The  second  kind  of  dreams,  however,  proved 
to  be  of  the  highest  importance  ;  they  were  rifts  through 
which  one  could  catch  a  glimpse  into  the  darkness  of 
the  subconscious  life. 

It  turned  out  that  the  dreams  related  by  the  patient, 
and  characterized  by  him  as  “  clear  picture  dreams,” 
and  afterward  as  “  visions,”  and  which  we  may  term 
“  vivid  experiences,”  in  contradistinction  to  dreams  be¬ 
ing  “  faint  experiences  ”  if  compared  to  those  of  the 
waking  life,  it  turned  out  that  these  dreams  were  real 
occurrences  of  the  patient’s  former  life  now  lapsed  from 
his  memory.  The  patient,  however,  did  not  recognise 
them  as  past  experiences .  To  him  they  were  extraor¬ 
dinarily  vivid  dreams,  strange  visions,  having  taken 
place  within  his  present  life  experience  and  without  the 
least  hint  as  to  their  qualitative  pastness.  The  mean¬ 
ing  of  these  visions  was  beyond  the  patient’s  ken. 


THE  CASE  OF  THE  HEY.  THOMAS  C.  HANNA.  223 


In  these  visions,  incidents,  names  of  persons,  of  ob¬ 
jects,  of  places,  were  arising  from  the  depths  of  the  pa¬ 
tient’s  split-off  subconscious  life,  and,  reaching  the  sur¬ 
face  of  the  upper  consciousness,  were  synthetized  within 
the  narrowed  circle  of  the  patient’s  waking  self.  This 
synthesis  in  memory,  however,  lacked  the  element  of 
recognition  in  so  far  as  the  life  previous  to  the  accident 
was  concerned.  The  patient  did  remember  well  the 
“  visions,”  but  he  did  not  refer  them  to  his  previous  life 
history;  he  regarded  them  as  “lively  dreams.”  The 
different  proper  names  brought  up  to  his  memory  by 
the  “  visions  ”  were  to  him  meaningless,  so  many  empty 
sounds  which  could  only  be  understood  by  the  experi¬ 
enced  observer,  or  by  his  parents,  who  were  acquainted 
with  all  the  details  of  his  life.  Thus,  in  one  of  his 
dreams  the  patient  saw  a  house  on  which  there  was  a 
sign  with  the  following  letters  (he  spelled  them  out) : 
H-e-w  B-o-s-t-o-n  J-tj-n-c.  He  could  now  make  out 
what  H-e-w  meant,  as  he  had  since  learned  the  word 
“  new,”  but  the  meaning  of  the  rest  of  the  letters  was 
to  him  entirely  unintelligible  and  unfamiliar. 

The  patient’s  father,  who  was  present  at  the  re¬ 
counting  of  the  dreams,  identified  the  places  described 
by  his  son,  and  found  that  all  the  names  of  the  places, 
persons,  and  objects  were  perfectly  correct.  Mr.  Hanna 
not  having  heard  of  all  that  since  the  accident,  re¬ 
garded  these  experiences  as  “  strange  dreams  ”  which 
he  could  not  understand,  because  he  saw  in  them  places, 
persons,  and  objects  which,  according  to  his  own  state¬ 
ments,  he  had  “never  seen  before.”  The  patient 
greatly  wondered  at  the  comments  and  amplifications 
the  father  was  making  on  “  the  visions.”  When  the 
father  accidentally  happened  to  mention  the  name 
“  Martinoe,”  the  patient’s  amazement  knew  no  bounds. 


224 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  SUGGESTION. 


“  That  is  the  name  of  a  place  I  passed  in  my  dream 
(vision),”  the  patient  exclaimed,  “  but  how  do  you  know 
it  ?  It  is  only  a  dream  !  ” 

The  subconscious  memories  of  the  patient  were  then 
tested  by  different  methods,  especially  by  the  method 
which  I  term  “  liypnoidization.”  This  method  consists 
in  the  following  procedure:  The  patient  is  asked  to 
close  his  eyes  and  keep  as  quiet  as  possible,  without, 
however,  making  any  special  effort  to  put  himself  in 
such  a  state.  He  is  then  asked  to  attend  to  some  stim¬ 
ulus,  such  as  reading  or  singing.  When  the  reading  is 
over,  the  patient,  with  his  eyes  still  shut,  is  asked  to 
repeat  it,  and  tell  what  came  into  his  mind  during  the 
reading,  during  the  repetition,  or  after  it.  Sometimes, 
as  when  the  song-stimulus  is  used,  the  patient  is  simply 
asked  to  tell  the  nature  of  ideas  and  images  that  en¬ 
tered  into  his  mind  at  that  time  or  soon  after.  This 
method,  simple  as  it  is,  I  find  to  work  wonders,  espe¬ 
cially  in  cases  of  amnesia. 

In  the  case  of  our  patient  the  hypnoidization 
brought  forth  phenomena  of  the  utmost  interest  and 
value.  Events,  names  of  persons,  of  places,  sentences, 
phrases,  whole  paragraphs  of  books  totally  lapsed  from 
memory,  and  in  languages  the  very  words  of  which 
sounded  bizarre  to  his  ears  and  the  meaning  of  which 
was  to  him  inscrutable — all  that  flashed  lightninglike 
on  the  patient’s  mind.  So  successful  was  this  method, 
that  on  one  occasion  the  patient  was  frightened  by  the 
flood  of  memories  that  rose  suddenly  from  the  obscure 
subconscious  regions,  deluged  his  mind,  and  were  ex¬ 
pressed  aloud,  only  to  be  forgotten  the  next  moment. 
To  the  patient  himself  it  appeared  as  if  another  being 
took  possession  of  his  tongue. 

The  probing  of  the  patient’s  subconscious  self  made 


THE  CASE  OF  THE  REV.  THOMAS  C.  HANNA.  225 


it  perfectly  clear  that  his  old  and  forgotten  memories 
did  not  perish,  that  they  were  present  to  the  secondary 
consciousness. 

To  he  still  more  sure  of  my  conclusion,  I  arranged 
with  Dr.  Goodhart,  who  assisted  me  in  my  psychologi¬ 
cal  examination  and  investigation  of  the  case,  to  watch 
for  the  appearance  of  “  the  vision.”  After  having 
watched  in  vain  a  whole  night,  we  were  at  last  amply 
rewarded  for  our  vigilance  ;  we  were  fortunate  enough 
to  he  present  at  the  visitation  of  one  of  those  “visions.” 
Dr.  Goodhart  was  taking  notes,  while  I  was  trying  to 
insinuate  myself  by  means  of  questioning  into  the  pa¬ 
tient’s  mind,  and  lead  him  on  so  as  to  reveal  the  inner 
working  of  his  subconscious  mental  states. 

The  patient  acted  out  and  lived  through  experiences 
long  forgotten  and  buried.  He  was  in  what  may  be 
called  a  “  hypnoidic  ”  state.  In  these  liypnoidic  states 
moments-consciousness  not  synthetized  within  the  focus 
of  the  ego,  moments-consciousness  dissociated  from  the 
main  stream  of  personal  life,  but  present  to  the  less  or¬ 
ganized  and  less  focalized  life  of  the  subconsciousness, 
emerge  from  the  obscure  depths  of  the  mind  in  focal¬ 
ized  clusters,  in  synthetized  systems  of  moments-con¬ 
sciousness.  Outlived  personalities  with  these  moments- 
consciousness  come  to  life  again,  run  through  in  a  short 
period  the  whole  cycle  of  events  and  actions  they  had 
once  worked  through.  These  outlived  personalities 
with  their  moments-content  of  consciousness  become 
infused  with  new  life  activity,  only  once  more  to  merge 
into  the  ocean  of  disaggregated  consciousness  and  to 
give  place  to  new  focalization,  to  new  resurrected  per¬ 
sonalities  seemingly  dead  years  ago. 

By  leading  questions,  without  his  least  knowledge 
of  it,  the  patient,  as  if  answering  to  his  own  thoughts, 


226 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OP  SUGGESTION. 


was  induced  to  tell  of  liis  life  forgotten  in  the  waking 
state.  Thus  the  rich  store  of  the  subconscious  self  was 
laid  bare.  The  amnesia  was  only  for  the  self-conscious 
waking  personality ,  but  not  for  the  aggregated  totality 
of  moments-consciousness  of  the  subconscious  life . 

A  week  later  the  patient  was  transferred,  for  the 
sake  of  further  investigation,  to  the  Pathological  Insti¬ 
tute  of  the  New  York  State  Hospitals,  and  under  the 
influence  of  psychic  and  physiological  stimuli  *  fell  into 
a  state  of  double  consciousness  or  double  personality. 
The  old  memories,  instead  of  rising  in  the  form  of 
hypnoidic  and  hypnoidal  states,  rose  to  the  full  light 
of  the  upper  consciousness.  The  “  primary  state  ”  in¬ 
cluded  the  patient’s  whole  life  up  to  the  time  of  the 
accident;  the  “secondary  state”  dated  from  the  acci¬ 
dent,  and  included  all  the  knowledge  and  experience 
acquired  in  that  state.  In  the  primary  state  the  patient 
was  discussing  metaphysics,  philosophy,  theology,  and 
even  once  wrote  for  me  a  concise  statement  on  the 
science  of  pathology ;  in  the  secondary  state  he  did  not 
even  know  the  meaning  of  these  terms.  In  the  pri¬ 
mary  state  his  handwriting  was  fine  and  delicate;  in 
the  secondary  state  it  was  awkward  and  childish,  and  he 
could  only  print  capitals,  as  he  had  not  yet  learned  to 
write  them.  Whatever  he  did  in  one  state  he  could  re¬ 
member  only  when  he  again  passed  into  that  state.  The 
events  of  one  state  were  not  known  to  the  patient  when 
in  the  other  state.  Complete  amnesia  separated  the 
two  states. 

In  the  artificially  induced  persistent  alternation  of 
the  two  states,  all  the  primary  entered  into  one  synthetic 

*  During  the  whole  course  of  investigation  and  treatment  of  the 
case  hypnosis  was  not  and  could  not  be  used.  The  reasons  will  be 
given  in  the  full  report  of  the  case. 


THE  CASE  OF  THE  KEY.  THOMAS  C.  HANNA.  227 


unity  of  consciousness,  and  so  also  all  the  secondary 
states.  By  means  of  the  psychic  and  physiological 
stimuli  used  by  me,  two  personalities  were  crystallized 
in  the  depths  of  his  subconsciousness  and  kept  alter¬ 
nating  in  the  upper  consciousness.  A  short  interval 
of  complete  unconsciousness  or  of  a  low  desultory  con¬ 
sciousness  with  full  anaesthesia  and  analgesia  intervened 
between  the  two  states.  This  interval  lasted  from  one 
to  about  three  minutes.  This  intermediate  state  was  an 
attack ;  it  was  sudden  in  its  onset,  and  may  be  termed 
hypnoleptic* 

By  means  of  a  method  used  by  me — a  method  the 
value  of  which  seems  to  me  to  be  inestimable  for  theo¬ 
retical  and  practical  purposes — the  two  alternating  per¬ 
sonalities  were  finally  run  together  into  one.f  The 
patient  is  now  perfectly  well  and  healthy,  and  has  re¬ 
sumed  his  former  vocation. 


*  A  knowledge  of  the  hypnoleptic  state  is  of  the  utmost  value 
to  therapeutics.  A  discussion  of  this  state  will  appear  in  the  State 
Hospitals’  Bulletin. 

f  An  account  and  discussion  of  the  method  of  cure  will  be  given 
in  the  State  Hospitals’  Bulletin. 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

FORMS  OF  SUBCONSCIOUS  STATES  AND  TYPES  OF  AMNESIA. 

With  the  case  of  H.  before  us,  we  return  once  more 
to  the  discussion  of  subconscious  states  and  types  of 
amnesia.  In  our  analysis  of  consciousness  we  arrived 
at  the  conclusion  that  consciousness  consists  of  moments- 
consciousness.  A  moment-consciousness  contains  as 
much  psychic  matter  or  moments-content  as  is  present 
within  one  given  synthesis  of  consciousness.  How,  the 
subconscious  includes  within  it  the  sum  total  of  all  the 
moments-content  and  also  of  all  the  moments-con- 
sciousness  in  a  condition  of  indifferent  association  and 
dissociation. 

The  subconscious  is  not  a  selective  activity ;  it  simply 
stands  for  the  sum  total  of  all  the  moments-conscious- 
ness.  In  the  moment-consciousness,  again,  selection  is 
absent ;  it  is  simply  a  matter  of  chance  what  psychic 
matter  shall  enter  into  the  synthesis  of  the  moment- 
consciousness.  It  is  only  as  we  reach  the  higher  plane 
of  psychic  life  characteristic  of  the  primary  self,  it  is 
only  then  that  we  for  the  first  time  meet  with  selective 
activity.  The  primary  self,  being  an  active  self-con¬ 
scious  synthesis,  is  selective  in  its  nature.  Out  of  a 
number  of  sensations,  ideas,  and  feelings  the  activity 
of  the  primary  self  selects  only  some,  and  leaves  the  rest 
in  the  background  of  consciousness.  The  primary  self 

228 


TYPES  OF  AMNESIA. 


229 


has  its  more  or  less  definite,  determinate  outlines  that 
constitute  its  personal  character.  Only  material  of  a 
certain  kind  and  quality,  only  moments-content  and 
moments-consciousness  of  a  definite  character  fitting 
into  the  form  activity  of  the  self,  only  such  material  is 
taken  up  within  the  circle  of  its  experience ;  the  rest  of 
the  material  is  simply  ignored.  This  leaving  out,  this 
ignoring  of  many  moments,  ranges  through  all  degrees 
of  synthetic  activity,  from  the  laying  up  of  the  mo¬ 
ments  with  a  view  to  further  use,  from  the  possibility 
of  synthetizing  the  rejected  material  up  to  the  total 
ignoring  of  it,  when  the  material  is  entirely  resigned, 
never  to  be  used  again  because  of  its  total  incongruence 
with  the  character  of  the  selective  activity  or  because 
of  the  weakness  within  the  energy  of  the  synthetic 
agency.  Many  mental  diseases,  and  especially  those 
that  go  under  the  collective  name  of  hysteria,  have  as 
their  psychic  cause  some  of  those  conditions  or  all  of 
them  in  different  combination  and  in  various  degrees 
of  intensity. 

This  ignoring  of  mental  material,  ranging  through 
all  shades  and  degrees,  and  also  the  selective  synthetic 
agency,  having  different  degrees  of  weakness  in  the 
energy  of  its  intensive  and  extensive  activity,  give  rise 
to  dissociation  of  mental  states,  to  disaggregation  of 
synthetized  moments  from  those  that  were  not  taken 
up  in  that  particular  synthesis  that  constitutes  for  the 
time  being  the  patient’s  principal  individuality.  All 
the  types  and  degrees  of  amnesia  depend  on  the  na¬ 
ture  and  degree  of  such  dissociation  or  disintegration. 
Where  the  dissociation  is  incomplete  the  amnesia  will 
also  be  incomplete. 

Moments-consciousness  as  well  as  moments-content 
may  drop  out  from  the  unity  of  the  synthetic  con- 


230 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  SUGGESTION. 


sciousness  and  produce  forgetfulness  or  amnesia.  In 
such  a  kind  of  amnesia,  however,  the  gap  formed  is 
felt  and  appreciated  by  consciousness  as  a  gap. 
Glimpses  of  memory  come  back  and  disappear  again ; 
the  forgotten  moments  tend  to  recur  times  and  again. 
The  range  of  such  an  amnesia  varies  greatly,  from 
simple  forgetfulness  of  some  few  details  to  the  oblivion 
of  many  important  events.  This  type  of  amnesia  may 
be  characterized  as  reproductive  or  recurrent. 

Where  the  dissociation,  however,  is  complete,  the 
amnesia  in  regard  to  the  disaggregated  new  synthetized 
material  is  total.  Under  conditions  that  bring  about  a 
disruption  in  consciousness  the  whole  moment  of  syn¬ 
thetic  self-consciousness  may  in  a  disaggregated  form 
fall  into  the  region  of  desultory  moments-consciousness, 
and  very  frequently  with  a  tendency  to  combine  and 
emerge  at  the  first  favorable  opportunity  to  the  sur¬ 
face  of  the  primary  consciousness.  Meanwhile,  another 
series  of  moments-content  and  of  moments-conscious¬ 
ness  rise  to  the  level  of  the  upper  consciousness  and 
become  synthetized  in  another  different  moment  that 
takes  the  place  of  the  disaggregated  one.  Between  the 
two  moments  there  is  a  break,  a  gap  ;  fragmentary  re¬ 
production  of  the  one  by  the  other  is  not  impossible ; 
if  induced  by  certain  methods,  the  recognition  element 
may  be  present,  but  may  also  be  totally  lacking.  This 
form  of  amnesia  may  be  termed  irretraceable. 

Many  of  the  former  moments  consciousness  and 
moments  content  may  come  up  in  this  newly  formed 
moment  consciousness,  still  the  moment,  on  the  whole, 
is  a  new  and  different  synthesis.  Hence  we  may  say 
that  irretraceable  amnesia  is  the  possible  manifestation 
of  the  phenomena  of  double  consciousness. 

We  may  put  it  down  as  a  law,  that  the  degree  of 


TYPES  OF  AMNESIA. 


231 


amnesia  is  proportional  to  the  amount  of  psycho- 
physiological  disaggregation. 

The  psycho-physiological  process  of  dissolution  may 
extend  still  further  and  deeper.  From  a  disaggrega¬ 
tion  of  systems  of  moments-consciousness  the  process 
may  pass  into  a  disintegration  of  the  moments-content 
themselves,  and  the  amnesia  then  is  absolute ;  for  a 
disintegration  of  the  moment  content  itself  practically 
means  a  total  loss  of  that  psychic  content  and  the 
impossibility  of  its  reinstatement  in  the  synthesis  of 
moment  consciousness. 

The  physiological  side  of  amnesia  is  to  be  found  in 
the  disaggregation  of  clusters  of  cells  into  their  con¬ 
stituent  systems  and  groups.  This  disaggregation  is 
due  to  the  violent,  hurtful  impressions  of  strong  stimuli 
that  effect  a  contraction  of  these  systems  and  groups 
joined  by  association  fibres  into  clusters.  Under  the 
influence  of  some  strong  injurious  stimulus  a  whole 
system  or  group  may  withdraw  from  a  constellation  of 
co-ordinate  systems  of  cells,  but  in  such  a  way  that  the 
contraction  is  effected  only  in  relation  to  some  of  the 
systems — that  is,  only  some  of  the  association  paths  get 
interrupted,  while  through  other  paths  the  system  still 
stands  in  connection  with  the  cluster  or  constellation. 
There  will,  of  course,  be  amnesia,  but  it  will  be  of  a 
vacillating,  unstable  character,  because  the  connection 
of  the  disaggregated  system  can  be  effected  in  an  indi¬ 
rect  way  through  other  systems.  Such  amnesia  will  be 
reproductive.  The  easiness  with  which  this  reproduc¬ 
tion  can  be  brought  about  is  in  inverse  proportion  to 
the  extent  of  disaggregation  effected,  in  inverse  pro¬ 
portion  to  the  number  of  interrupted  association  paths. 

If,  however,  the  system  has  contracted  completely, 

and  has  fully  withdrawn  from  the  cluster  of  systems  so 
16 


232 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  SUGGESTION. 


that  all  association  paths  are  interrupted,  the  result  is 
complete  irretraceable  amnesia. 

In  irretraceable  amnesia  the  system  that  has  with¬ 
drawn  is  perfectly  sound,  only  it  possesses  groups  of 
cells  of  a  less  complex  nature,  and  the  former  connec¬ 
tions  can  be  again  reinstated  under  favorable  circum¬ 
stances.  Should,  however,  the  hurtful  stimulus  be  of 
such  a  nature  as  to  destroy  a  whole  system  of  cells, 
then  the  amnesia  effected  is  absolute.  The  connections 
can  not  any  more  be  reinstated,  because  the  system 
itself  is  destroyed. 

The  process  of  disaggregation  setting  in  under  the 
action  of  strong  and  hurtful  stimuli  is  not  something 
new  and  different  in  kind  from  the  usual ;  it  is  a  con¬ 
tinuation  of  the  process  of  association  and  dissociation 
normally  going  on  in  the  higher  constellations.  The 
one  process  gradually  passes  into  the  other  with  the 
increase  of  the  intensity  or  duration  of  the  hurtful 
stimulus.  Both  processes  are  of  one  and  the  same  na¬ 
ture.  A  further  continuation  of  the  process  of  disag¬ 
gregation  passes  into  that  of  cell  destruction,  which, 
accepting  Dr.  Ira  Yan  G-ieson’s  terminology  of  cell 
disintegration,  may  be  characterized  as  cytoclasis.* 

The  process  may  be  represented  as  follows : 


Disaggregation 


Dissolution 


Association  and  Dissociation 


Normal 


Cytoclasis 


Psychologically,  we  find  that  different  degrees  of 
amnesia  shade  into  each  other  imperceptibly,  and  that 
between  the  two  extremes — namely,  that  of  normal 
forgetfulness  and  that  of  absolute  amnesia — there  exists 


*  See  Dr.  Yan  Gieson’s  article,  The  Toxic  Basis  of  Neural  Dis¬ 
eases,  State  Hospitals’  Bulletin,  No.  4. 


TYPES  OF  AMNESIA. 


233 


a  whole  uninterrupted  series  of  gradations  of  amnesia, 
forming  a  continuous  progression. 

This  may  graphically  be  represented  as  follows  : 

9 

- V 


We  may  now  co-ordinate  the  two  series  and  graph¬ 
ically  represent  them  by  two  parallel  lines :  * 

- - > 


In  reproductive  or  recurrent  amnesia  the  patient 
must  make  a  special  effort  to  bring  out  the  dissociated 
experiences,  and  the  strength  of  the  effort  is  propor¬ 
tional  to  the  amount  of  dissociation.  In  irretraceable 
amnesia  the  patient  can  by  no  effort  of  will  bring  back 
the  lost  memories,  but  they  emerge  under  artificial  con¬ 
ditions,  such  as  in  the  state  of  hypnosis  or  in  the  induc¬ 
tion  of  slight  hypnoidal  states,  when  isolated  ideas  and 
sensations,  fragments  of  experiences,  without  being 
recognised  as  past,  emerge  to  the  surface  of  conscious¬ 
ness  ;  also  in  hypnoidic  states,  when  all  the  memories 
are  found  to  be  present.  The  case  of  Hanna  is  a  fair 
example.  In  the  hypnoidic  states,  as  the  “  vision 

*  The  physiological  process  of  association  and  dissociation  cor¬ 
responds  to  the  psychological  process  of  forgetfulness  and  recall; 
the  process  of  disaggregation,  to  the  forms  of  reproductive  and  irre¬ 
traceable  amnesia.  Cytoclasis  is  concomitant  with  absolute  amnesia. 


234 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  SUGGESTION. 


dreams,”  the  patient  proved  to  know  everything  he 
had  forgotten  in  his  seemingly  normal  waking  state. 

In  absolute  amnesia,  however,  there  are  no  means  • 
by  which  the  lost  memories  may  be  restored ;  no  psychic 
condition  can  reinstate  them  in  consciousness.  They 
are  gone  and  lost,  never  to  return ;  they  are  utterly  de¬ 
stroyed. 

From  a  practical  clinical  standpoint  it  is  of  vital 
importance  to  make  a  differential  diagnosis  as  to  the 
kind  of  amnesia.  In  a  case  of  amnesia  with  no  possi¬ 
bility  on  the  side  of  the  patient,  no  matter  how  strong 
the  efforts  are,  to  bring  up  the  lost  memories,  it  is  of 
the  utmost  importance  to  find  out  whether  it  is  a  case 
of  irretraceable  or  a  case  of  absolute  amnesia,  as  the 
prognosis  and  treatment  in  each  one  of  the  two  mala¬ 
dies  are  totally  different.  To  make  such  a  diagnosis, 
the  subconscious  must  be  tapped  by  means  of  different 
methods. 

The  clinician,  the  alienist,  must  bear  in  mind  that  a 
case  of  amnesia ,  where  the  lost  memories  lie  beyond  the 
control  of  the  patient ,  may  be  irretraceable ,  disaggrega- 
tme ,  and  therefore  curable ,  or  absolute ,  cytoclastic ,  and 
therefore  completely  incurable. 

Turning  now  to  irretraceable  or  disaggregative  am¬ 
nesia,  we  find  that  hypnotic,  hypnoid,*  hypnoidic,  and 
hypnoidal  states  reveal  the  presence  of  lost  memories 
in  the  depths  of  the  subconscious  self.  Memories 
which  the  upper  personality  is  unable  to  recall,  and 


*  By  the  term  “  hypnoid  ”  I  indicate  the  coexistence  of  two  or 
more  fully  independent  functioning  constellations  of  moments- 
consciousness,  such  as  is  presented  in  the  phenomena  of  automatic 
writing  and  of  hysteria.  An  experimental  study  of  cases  of  hypnoid 
states  and  the  method  of  their  complete  and  permanent  cure  will 
appear  in  The  State  Hospitals’  Bulletin. 


TYPES  OF  AMNESIA. 


235 


which  seem  to  he  altogether  obliterated,  suddenly 
emerge  to  the  surface  of  consciousness  with  the  re¬ 
moval  of  the  upper  layers  of  mental  activity.  In 
hypnosis  the  removal  of  the  waking  consciousness  is 
followed  by  a  state  of  high  reflex  suggestibility  char¬ 
acteristic  of  the  indefinite  nature  of  the  secondary  self. 
In  the  hypnoidic  state  such  suggestibility  is  absent,  be¬ 
cause  another  quasi -personality  emerges  with  a  more 
or  less  definite  character,  a  personality  that  is  inac¬ 
cessible  to  direct  suggestion.  The  hypnoidic  state, 
however,  is  amenable  to  indirect  suggestion.  By  means 
of  indirect  suggestion  it  is  even  possible  entirely  to  re¬ 
move  this  hypnoidic  personality,  and  have  it  replaced 
by  another  one,  which  in  its  turn  may  be  treated  in 
like  manner. 

The  character  of  the  hypnoidic  individuality  is  some 
outlived  phase  of  the  patient’s  personal  life.  Such 
states  may  also  be  induced  in  hypnosis,  but  then  the 
hypnoidic  state  is  vague  and  ill  defined.  More  fre¬ 
quently  the  hypnoidic  state  may  be  fully  brought  about 
in  post-hypnotic  or  what  may  be  termed  hypnonergic 
states.  I  could  effect  such  an  analogous  state  in  my 
somnambulic  subjects  by  post-hypnotic  suggestion.  The 
difference  between  the  post-hypnotic  or  hypnonergic 
and  the  true  spontaneous  hypnoidic  state  consists  in 
the  relation  of  the  subject  to  external  impressions.  In 
the  hypnonergic  state  the  subject  receives  external 
impressions  directly  and  refers  them  to  some  external 
source.  He  hears,  sees,  feels,  perceives  things  that  hap¬ 
pen  around  him,  and  frequently  carries  on  very  ani¬ 
mated  conversations  on  different  topics.  Even  in  the 
case  of  post-hypnotic  negative  hallucinations,  the  pa¬ 
tient  is  still  fully  alive  to  other  not  inhibited  sense 
impressions  that  reach  him  from  all  sides.  Quite  dif- 


236 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  SUGGESTION. 


ferent  is  the  true  hypnoidic  state.  The  sense  organs 
of  the  patient  are  closed  to  the  impressions  of  external 
stimuli.  He  does  not  perceive  anything  that  takes 
place  around  him.  His  environment  is  that  of  the 
past,  and  in  it  he  lives  and  moves.  Shut  up  within 
one  of  his  past  lives,  he  remains  insensible  to  the  world 
of  his  objective  present.  H  by  chance  any  impressions 
do  reach  the  subject,  they  are  at  once  worked  into  his 
present  hallucinatory  life  experience.  If  the  patient  is 
touched,  squeezed,  pricked,  he  feels  nothing  at  all ;  he 
is  totally  anaesthesic  and  analgesic,  and  still  within  his 
“  vision  ”  he  may  be  extremely  sensitive  to  pain,  shiver 
from  cold,  complain  of  fatigue,  and  undergo  tortures 
of  pricking  sensations  caused  by  a  strong  gale  blowing 
icicles  into  his  face.  Of  such  a  nature  were  the  visions 
in  the  case  of  Hanna. 

The  patient  hears  none  of  the  conversation  carried 
on  in  his  presence.  When  the  patient  is  spoken  to  on 
subjects  not  directly  related  to  his  resurrected  life  ex¬ 
perience,  he  makes  no  reply  ;  he  simply  does  not  hear. 
Only  when  he  is  addressed  on  something  relating  to 
the  experience  he  is  passing  through,  it  is  only  then 
that  he  makes  a  reply.  He  does  not  realize,  however, 
that  it  is  some  one  else  who  speaks  to  him  ;  his  replies 
to  questions  are  to  him  either  answers  to  his  own 
thoughts,  or  sometimes — a  case  very  rare — he  seems  to 
converse  with  some  imaginary  person  within  his  hyp¬ 
noidic  state. 

Ho  suggestions  are  taken  by  the  hypnoidic  person¬ 
ality.  It  is  fully  rational  in  relation  to  the  environ¬ 
ment  in  which  it  lives.  Thus,  in  one  of  his  hypnoidic 
states  Rev.  Thomas  C.  Hanna  lived  through  a  terrible 
accident  that  happened  to  him  once.  He  was  on  Mount 
Jewett,  Pa.  The  wind  blew  high.  Lightning  rent 


TYPES  OF  AMNESIA. 


237 


the  sky,  thunder  crashed  overhead.  The  gale  gained 
strength  and  became  a  tempest.  Broken  branches 
and  trees  were  falling  on  all  sides.  “  There  is  an  old 
woman  with  a  child !  ”  he  exclaimed.  “  Oh,  it  is  ter¬ 
rible!  it  is  terrible !”  he  moaned.  “We  must  run! 
we  must  run !  I  must  drag  the  woman.  Thunder ! 
It  is  terrible !  Save  the  woman  !  I  am  so  cold  !  My 
heart  is  so  weak !  Oh,  it  is  terrible !  W e  must  run  ! 
we  must  run !  ”  To  my  question  whether  he  knew 
Miss  C.,  the  answer  of  the  hypnoidic  personality  was 
highly  interesting  and  instructive.  “Don't  know  her 
yet — acquainted  with  her  a  year  later.  From  Mount 
Jewett  to  her  is  a  year.”  (This  was  found  to  be  cor¬ 
rect.)  When  I  suggested  to  him  that  his  friend  S.  was 
with  him,  he  laughed  me  to  scorn.  “  That  is  impossi¬ 
ble  !  ”  he  exclaimed ;  “  S.  is  many  miles  away  from 
here.”  I  asked  for  the  date.  He  gave  the  date  in 
which  the  event  took  place.  “  It  is  August  now,”  he 
said.  When  I  insisted  that  it  was  May  (the  actual  time 
when  the  vision  occurred),  the  hypnoidic  personality 
became  impatient,  raised  its  hand,  struck  the  bed  with 
great  force,  and  exclaimed :  “  I  am  sure  it  is  now 
August.  You  can  not  make  me  crazy  !  ” 

All  that  time  the  patient  was  sitting  up  in  his  bed, 
with  his  eyes  firmly  shut,  blind  and  deaf  to  all  impres¬ 
sions  that  had  no  relation  to  the  “  vision.”  By  indi¬ 
rect  leading  questions  this  particular  personality  gradu¬ 
ally  dwindled  away,  and  lo  !  a  new  personality  appeared 
on  the  scene — a  boy  personality. 

The  Bev.  Thomas  C.  Hanna  became  a  boy  of  thir¬ 
teen.  The  scenery  changed  completely.  He  was  on 
Umbrella  Island.  It  was  sunset,  it  was  “beautiful.” 
He  was  expected  for  supper,  but  he  was  on  the  water, 
rowing  and  fishing. 


238 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  SUGGESTION. 


On  awakening  from  his  hypnoidic  state  the  patient 
remembered  the  “  vision  ”  very  clearly ;  he  conld  re¬ 
produce  it,  as  if  it  were  impressed  on  his  mind  in  im¬ 
ages  of  fire.  He  could  not  recognise  the  experiences 
of  his  vision  as  events  that  had  taken  place  in  his  past 
life ;  he  did  not  know  that  I  or  any  one  else  conversed 
with  him  and  led  him  to  give  answers  ;  nor  did  he  re¬ 
member  any  of  the  many  statements  to  my  indirect 
questioning  he  had  made  in  his  hypnoidic  state.  He 
could  not  remember  the  answers  he  gave  me  on  the 
suggestion  that  his  friend  S.  was  with  him ;  he  did  not 
know  anything  of  the  quarrel  we  had  about  the  date ; 
nor  did  he  remember  anything  of  the  interesting  in¬ 
formation  he  gave  me  about  the  events  of  his  life,  such 
as  the  date  of  his  acquaintance  with  Miss  C.  He  could 
only  remember,  and  that  with  extraordinary  clearness 
and  distinctness,  everything  that  directly  related  to  the 
“  vision  ”  itself. 

Left  to  itself  the  hypnoidic  personality  tends  to  dis¬ 
appear,  to  fall  back  into  the  undifferentiated  mass  of 
moments-consciousness  of  the  subconscious  self,  for  the 
hypnoidic  personality  is  unstable  in  its  nature.  Unsta¬ 
ble,  however,  as  the  hypnoidic  personality  is,  it  is  in 
closer  contact  with  the  subconscious  life  than  is  the 
waking  self.  The  hypnoidic  personality  is  in  possession 
of  facts,  experiences,  memories,  of  which  the  upper 
central  consciousness  is  entirely  ignorant.  Absolute 
amnesia,  where  there  is  full  destruction  of  psychic  ex¬ 
perience,  is  the  only  type  of  amnesia  that  may  touch 
the  hypnoidic  personality ;  all  other  forms  of  amnesia 
are  maladies  of  the  upper  self. 

The  hypnoidal  states  are  of  an  entirely  different  na¬ 
ture.  They  are  sudden  intrusions  of  isolated  moments- 
consciousness  into  the  upper  regions  of  the  waking 


TYPES  OF  AMNESIA. 


239 


personality,  and  can  be  induced  by  post-bypnotic  sug¬ 
gestion,  as  well  as  by  methods  of  bypnoidization.  Like 
the  hypnoidic,  the  hypnoidal  states  are  outlived  experi¬ 
ences,  but,  unlike  the  hypnoidic  state,  they  are  not  out¬ 
lived  personalities.  The  hypnoidal  states  are  bits,  mere 
fragments  of  past  experiences. 

In  hypnoidal  states  past,  outlived  experiences  heave 
up  into  the  upper  consciousness  from  the  depths  of  the 
subject’s  subconscious  life.  The  subject  does  not  wel¬ 
come  these  experiences  as  his  own ;  he  does  not  recog¬ 
nise  them  as  belonging  to  the  stream  of  his  conscious 
life  once  lived  through;  they  are  volcanic  eruptions 
from  the  subconscious  life. 

The  hypnoidal  differ  from  the  hypnoidic  states  in 
four  very  important  points  : 

1.  They  can  be  and  usually  are  artificially  induced 
by  the  method  of  hypnoidization.  The  hypnoidic  can 
not  be  artificially  induced  ;  they  are  always  spontaneous. 

2.  The  upper  consciousness  takes  direct  cognizance 
of  the  hypnoidal  states  in  the  moment  of  their  appear¬ 
ance.  The  hypnoidic  states  are  not  directly  cognized 
by  the  upper  consciousness ;  the  latter  is  always  absent 
when  the  hypnoidic  states  are  present. 

3.  The  experience  of  hypnoidal  states  is  vague,  and 
tends  to  disappear  from  the  upper  consciousness  the 
next  moment  after  its  occurrence.  The  experience  of 
the  hypnoidic  state  is  inscribed  on  the  mnemonic  tables 
of  the  upper  consciousness  in  letters  of  fire. 

4.  "While  the  hypnoidic  states  form  complete  systems 
of  experiences,  whole  personalities,  the  hypnoidal  states 
are  mere  bits,  chips  of  past  experiences. 

In  both  states,  hypnoidic  and  hypnoidal,  we  find, 
however,  one  common  trait,  and  that  is  the  emergence 
of  moments-consciousness  that  may  be  known  and  re- 


240 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  SUGGESTION. 


called,  whether  directly  or  indirectly,  by  the  primary 
self.  These  experiences,  as  we  pointed  out,  are  not  re¬ 
membered  as  past ;  they  are  not  regarded  as  experiences 
that  had  taken  place  within  the  former  life  history  of 
the  patient. 

The  most  important  element  of  memory — namely, 
recognition — is  here  totally  absent ;  for  memory  is  the 
reproduction  and  recognition  of  one’s  past  conscious 
experience.  Hence,  where  this  recognition  element  is 
lacking,  there  true  memory  is  also  absent.  The  repro¬ 
duction  of  past  experience  without  the  element  of  recog¬ 
nition,  a  condition  of  mind  characteristic  of  hypnoidic 
and  hypnoidal  states  in  their  relations  to  the  upper  con¬ 
sciousness,  may  be  termed  recognitive  amnesia. 

In  contradistinction  to  this  type  of  amnesia,  there 
is  another  one  where  not  only  recognition  but  even  the 
synthesis  of  reproduction  is  absent.  Such  a  type  may 
be  termed  synthetic  amnesia. 

Irretraceable  amnesia  may  be  recognitive  or  syn¬ 
thetic. 

The  dissociated  moment  may  come  and  go,  may  sud¬ 
denly  emerge,  to  the  surprise  of  the  patient,  to  the  upper 
stream  of  consciousness,  be  synthetized,  sometimes  even 
recognised,  and  then  be  lost  again.  Such  a  lapse  of 
memory  may  be  termed  simple  amnesia. 

Where  the  loss  of  memory  is  for  events  of  a  certain 
period,  as  an  hour,  a  day,  a  month,  or  even  several 
years,  and  where  all  events  before  and  after  that  gap 
can  be  recalled,  then  we  have  that  type  of  amnesia  which 
is  characterized  as  localized  amnesia. 

If  the  loss  of  memory  is  only  for  certain  systems  of 
events,  while  other  events  that  happened  at  the  same 
time  can  be  fully  recalled,  such  a  loss  is  termed  system¬ 
atized  amnesia. 


TYPES  OF  AMNESIA. 


241 


When  the  lost  content  remains  unaltered  during 
the  whole  course  of  the  disease,  the  amnesia  is  stable. 

If  the  amnesia  sets  on  at  intervals,  it  is  periodic. 

If  psychic  states  keep  on  alternating,  each  one  be¬ 
ing  completely  amnesic  for  the  other,  such  as  is  the 
case  in  double-consciousness,  then  the  amnesia  is  alter¬ 
nating. 

When  the  content  of  memory  is  continually  decreas¬ 
ing,  ending  at  last  in  a  more  or  less  total  loss  of  it,  such 
as  we  find  in  general  paralysis,  then  the  amnesia  is  pro¬ 
gressive. 

The  dissociation  in  consciousness  may  be  in  relation 
to  sensations.  The  patient  experiences  the  sensation 
but  does  not  comprehend  its  meaning.  This  may  be 
termed  sensory  or  perceptual  amnesia.  This  form  of 
amnesia  may  be  limited  to  one  or  two  classes  of  sensa¬ 
tions,  or  may  extend  to  all  of  them. 

If  the  amnesia  is  of  one  sense,  it  may  be  called  local ; 
if  of  all  of  them,  total  sensory  amnesia. 

Where  the  dissociation  occurs  in  the  motor  con¬ 
sciousness  or  motor  centres,  the  amnesia  is  motor.  This 
type  may  be  again  local  or  total. 

If  the  amnesia  is  of  the  whole  life  experience,  as  it 
is  in  the  case  of  Tli.  C.  H.,  it  may  be  termed  general. 

If,  however,  the  amnesia  is  of  but  a  part  of  life 
experience,  as,  for  instance,  in  cases  of  aphasia,  or  of 
localized  amnesia,  it  may  be  termed  special. 

If  the  cause  of  the  amnesic  state  is  some  intense 
mechanical  stimulus,  such  as  a  fall  or  a  blow  on  the 
head,  the  amnesia  is  traumatic. 

Amnesia  is  toxic  when  the  cause  is  some  extrinsic 
poison  absorbed  by  the  organism,  as,  for  instance,  in  the 
case  of  alcoholic  intoxication. 

Amnesia  is  autotoxic  when  the  poison  that  causes 


242 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OP  SUGGESTION. 


the  disease  is  periodically  developed  by  the  organism 
itself,  on  account  of  its  defective  working  and  imper¬ 
fect  elimination  of  waste  products.  Such  cases  of  am¬ 
nesia  may  occur  in  the  status  epilepticus,  in  the  states 
of  mind  that  go  under  the  name  of  psychic  equivalent 
of  epilepsy,  which  are  found  interspersed  in  the  series 
of  typical  epileptic  motor  attacks  that  are  accompanied 
by  a  mental  activity  that  can  rise  no  higher  than  the 
most  elementary  desultory  moment-consciousness. 

If  amnesia  is  the  result  of  fatigue,  of  nervous  ex¬ 
haustion,  or  of  the  instability  of  central  organization,  it 
may  be  termed  asthenic. 

Amnesia  is  emotional  or  mathematic  when  the  cause 
of  it  is  an  intense  emotion. 

These  types  of  amnesia  occur  spontaneously  in 
many  mental  diseases,  and  can  also  be  produced  artifi¬ 
cially  by  hypnotic  suggestion.  Whether  artificial  or 
spontaneous,  the  mechanism  of  these  types  is  at  bot¬ 
tom  the  same — it  is  a  disaggregation  or  disintegration 
of  moments-consciousness. 

Thus  there  are  three  types  of  amnesia,  if  regarded 

from  the  standpoint  of  extensiveness : 

* 

1.  Reproductive. 

2.  Irretraceable  or  disaggregative. 

3.  Absolute  or  cytoclastic. 

According  to  intensiveness,  there  are  three  types  of 
amnesia : 

1.  Simple. 

2.  Recognitive. 

3.  Synthetic. 

According  to  the  lost  content,  amnesia  has  six  types : 

1.  General. 

2.  Special. 

3.  Localized. 


TYPES  OF  AMNESIA. 


243 


4.  Systematized. 


5.  Sensory 


6.  Motor  |  loeai1' 

( total. 

According  to  stability  or  fluctuation  of  content 
amnesia  has  four  types : 

1.  Stable. 

2.  Periodic. 

3.  Alternating. 

4.  Progressive. 

Etiologically,  or  according  to  cause,  there  are  five 
types  of  amnesia : 

1.  Traumatic. 

2.  Toxic. 

3.  Autotoxic. 

4.  Asthenic. 

5.  Emotional  or  pathematic. 

A  summary  of  all  the  principal  forms  of  subcon¬ 
scious  states  and  of  all  the  types  of  amnesia  gives  the 
following  table : 

Forms  of  subconscious  states : 

1.  Hypnotic. 

2.  Somnambulic. 

3.  Hypnonergic. 

4.  Hypnoid. 

5.  Hypnoidic. 

6.  Hypnoidal. 

7.  Hypnoleptic. 

Types  of  amnesia : 

1.  Reproductive  or  recurrent. 

2.  Irretraceable  or  disaggregative. 

3.  Absolute  or  cytoclastic. 

4.  Simple. 


244  THE  psychology  of  suggestion. 

5.  Recognitive. 

6.  Synthetic. 

7.  Localized. 

8.  Systematized. 


(  local. 
( total, 
local, 
total. 


9.  Sensory 


10.  Motor 


11.  General. 

12.  Special. 

13.  Stable. 

14.  Periodic. 

15.  Alternating. 

16.  Progressive. 

17.  Traumatic. 

18.  Toxic. 

19.  Autotoxic. 

20.  Asthenic. 

21.  Emotional  or  pathematie6 


CHAPTER  XXIY. 


THE  CHARACTER  OF  THE  SUBCONSCIOUS  SELF. 

The  problem  that  interested  me  most  was  to  come 
into  closer  contact  with  the  snbwaking  self.  What  is 
its  fundamental  nature  ?  What  are  the  main  traits  of 
its  character  ?  Since  in  hypnosis  the  subwaking  self  is 
freed  from  its  chains,  untrammelled  by  the  shackles  of 
the  upper  controlling  self ;  since  in  hypnosis  the  under¬ 
ground  self  is  more  or  less  exposed  to  our  view,  it  is 
plain  that  experimentation  on  the  hypnotic  self  will  in¬ 
troduce  us  into  the  secret  life  of  the  subwaking  self ; 
for,  as  we  pointed  out  above,  the  two  are  identical. 
Now  I  have  made  all  kinds  of-  experiments,  bringing 
subjects  into  catalepsy,  somnambulisms,  giving  illusions, 
hallucinations,  post-hypnotic  suggestions,  etc.  As  a 
result  of  my  work  one  central  truth  stands  out  clear 
before  my  mind,  and  that  is  the  extraordinary  plas¬ 
ticity  of  the  subwakimy  self.  If  you  can  only  in  some 
way  or  other  succeed  in  separating  the  primary  con¬ 
trolling  consciousness  from  the  lower  one,  the  waking 
from  tne  subwaking  6elf,  so  that  they  should  no  longer 
keep  company,  you  can  do  anything  you  please  with 
the  sub  waking  self.  You  can  make  its  legs,  hands,  any 
limb  you  like,  perfectly  rigid ;  you  can  make  it  eat  pep¬ 
per  for  sugar ;  you  can  make  it  drink  water  for  wine ; 

245 


246 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  SUGGESTION. 


feel  cold  or  warm ;  hear  delightful  music ;  feel  pain  or 
pleasure ;  see  oranges  where  there  is  nothing ;  nay,  you 
can  make  it  even  eat  them  and  feel  their  taste.  In 
short,  you  can  do  with  the  subwaking  self  anything  you 
like.  The  subwaking  consciousness  is  in  your  power 
like  clay  in  the  hands  of  the  potter.  The  nature  of 
its  plasticity  is  revealed  by  its  complete  suggestibility. 
Unlike  clay,  however,  it  can  not  be  hardened  into  any 
permanent  and  durable  form. 

I  wanted  to  get  an  insight  into  the  very  nature  of 
the  sub  waking  self ;  I  wanted  to  make  personal  acquaint¬ 
ance  with  it.  “ What  is  its  personal  character?”  I 
asked.  How  surprised  was  I  when,  after  close  inter¬ 
rogation,  the  answer  came  to  me  that  there  could  possi¬ 
bly  be  no  personal  acquaintance  with  it,  for  the  sub- 
walcing  self  lacks  personality.  Under  certain  condi¬ 
tions  a  cleavage  may  occur  between  the  two  selves,  and 
then  the  subwaking  self  may  rapidly  grow,  develop, 
and  attain  the  plane  of  self-consciousness,  get  crystal¬ 
lized  into  a  person,  and  give  itself  a  name,  imaginary 
or  borrowed  from  history.  But  this  newly  crystallized 
personality  is,  as  a  rule,  extremely  unstable,  ephemeral, 
shadowy  in  its  outlines,  tends  to  subside,  to  become 
amorphous,  again  and  again  gets  formed,  rising  to  the 
surface  of  life,  then  sinks  and  disappears  for  evermore. 
The  two  selves  blend,  and  once  more  form  one  con¬ 
scious  individuality. 

The  following  account  by  an  automatic  writer  *  is 
extremely  interesting  from  our  point  of  view.  I  bring 
the  account  in  full,  as  I  find  it  of  great  value. 

“The  experiment,”  writes  Mr.  A.,  “was  made 


*  Myers,  Some  So-called  Spiritualistic  Phenomena,  Proceedings 
of  the  Society  for  Psychical  Research,  November,  1884. 


THE  CHARACTER  OF  SUBCONSCIOUS  SELF.  247 

Easter,  1883,  on  one  day,  and,  after  an  interval  of 
a  week,  continued  on  three  consecutive  days.  Upon 
the  first  day  I  became  seriously  interested ;  on  the 
second  puzzled ;  on  the  third  I  seemed  to  he  enter¬ 
ing  upon  entirely  novel  experiences,  half  awful,  half 
romantic;  upon  the  fourth  the  sublime  ended  pain¬ 
fully  in  the  ridiculous. 


“  FIRST  DAY. 

“  Ques.  Upon  what  conditions  may  I  learn  from  the 
unseen  ? 

“  Ans.  My  hand  immediately  moved,  though  not  to 
a  very  satisfying  issue. 

“  Q.  What  is  it  that  now  moves  my  pen  ? 

“  A.  Religion. 

“  Q.  What  moves  my  pen  to  write  that  answer  ? 

“4.  Conscience. 

“  Q •  What  is  religion  ? 

“A.  Worship. 

“  Q •  What  is  worship  ? 

“  A.  Wbwbwbwb. 

“  Q.  What  is  the  meaning  of  w  b  ? 

“  A.  Win,  buy. 

“  Q •  What  ? 

“  A.  Know(ledge). 

“  Here  I  knew  the  letters  which  were  to  follow,  and 
the  pen  made  a  sudden  jerk,  as  if  it  were  useless  to 
continue. 

u  Q.  How  ? 

“A.  - ” 

We  find  here  the  secondary  self  emerging  from  its 
prison,  giving  unintelligent  and  unintelligible  answers, 
as  one  dazzled  by  the  light  of  day. 


17 


248 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  SUGGESTION. 


“second  day. 

44  Ques.  What  is  man  ? 

44  Ans.  Flise. 

44  Q.  What  does  F  stand  for  ? 

44  A.  Fesi. 

“Q-  1? 

“A.  le. 

“  Q-  i? 

44  A.  Ivy. 

“ Q-  B? 

44  H.  sir. 

“  G-  e? 

44  A.  eye. 

44  4  Fesi  le  ivy  sir  eye.’ 

44  O.  Is  this  an  anagram  ? 

44  H.  Yes. 

44  Q.  How  many  words  in  the  answer  ? 

“  A.  4. 

44  This  was  made  ont  as : 

4  Every  life  is  yes.’  ” 

The  secondary  self  could  not  stand  long  the  mid¬ 
day  light  of  the  waking  consciousness,  and  plunged 
once  more  into  the  depths  of  the  obscure  regions, 
whence  it  came. 

44  THIRD  DAY. 

44  Ques.  What  is  man  ? 

44  Ans.  Sefi  Haslesbli  lies. 

44  Q.  Is  this  an  anagram  ? 

44  A.  Yes. 

44  Q.  How  many  words  in  the  answer  ? 

44  A.  v  (5). 

44  Q.  What  is  the  first  word  ? 

44  A.  See. 


THE  CHARACTER  OF  SUBCONSCIOUS  SELF.  249 

44  Q •  What  is  the  second  word  ? 

44  A.  e  e  e. 

44  Q.  Must  I  interpret  it  myself  ? 

“A.  Try. 

44  Presently  I  got  out : 

4  Life  is  the  less  able.’ 

44  I  do  not  know  whether  any  other  interpreta¬ 
tion  can  be  given  to  the  letters,  but  these  fulfil 
the  requirements;  and  the  action  of  the  pen,  assist¬ 
ing  in  the  process  of  interpretation,  pointing  to  the 
letters,  accepting  these  and  rejecting  those  combina¬ 
tions,  left  no  doubt  in  my  mind  that  I  had  hit  the 
meaning. 

44  But  now  I  was  so  astonished  at  the  apparently  in¬ 
dependent  will  and  i/ntellect  manifested  in  forming  the 
above  anagrams  that  it  was  not  without  something  of 
awe  that  I  put : 

44  Q •  Who  art  thou  ? 

44  M.  Clelia. 

44  Q.  Thou  art  a  woman  ? 

“A.  Yes. 

44  Q.  Hast  thou  ever  lived  upon  the  earth  ? 

“A.  No. 

44  Q.  Wilt  thou  ? 

“A.  Yes. 

“  Q-  When  ? 

44  A.  Six  years. 

44  Q.  Wherefore  dost  thou  then  speak  with  me  ? 

“A.  E  if  Clelia  el. 

44 1  made  out,  4 1  Clelia  feel.’ 

44  But  upon  my  asking  whether  this  was  right  Clelia 
wrote  again,  thus, 

4 E  if  Clelia  el. 

20.’ 


250 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  SUGGESTION. 

“  Q.  Is  20  your  age  ? 

“  A.  go  (She  was  eternal). 

“  Q.  Then  20  what  ? 

“A.  Words.  .  .  . 

“fourth  day. 

“  Ques.  Wherefore  dost  thou  speak  with  me  ? 

“ Ans.  (Wavy  line.  Repetition  and  emphasis): 
Wherefore  dost  thou  speak  with  me  f 
“  Q.  Wherefore  dost  thou  answer  me  ? 

“  A.  (Wavy  line)  Wherefore  dost  thou  answer  me  f 
“  Q.  Do  I  answer  myself  ? 

“  A.  Yes. 

“  Q.  Is  Clelia  here  ? 

((A.  No . 

“  Q.  Who  is,  then,  now  here  ? 

“  A.  Hobody. 

“  Q.  Does  Clelia  exist  ? 

“  A .  No. 

“  Q.  With  whom  did  I  speak  yesterday  ? 

“  A.  No  one. 

“  Q •  Why  did^t  thou  lie  ? 

“  A.  (Wavy  line)  Why  didst  thou  lie  ? 

“  Q.  Do  souls  exist  in  another  world  ? 

“  A.  M  b. 

“  Q.  What  does  M  b  mean  ? 
u  A.  May  be. 

“  Q.  What  was  the  last  answer  of  yesterday  again  ? 
“  A.  Eif  Clelia  o  el. 

“  I.  e.,  4 1  feel  no  Clelia.’ 

“  Or  the  original  may  have  been  : 

‘  I  Clelia  flee.’ 

u  And  the  20  meant  no ,  negativing  my  interpreta¬ 
tion. 


THE  CHARACTER  OF  SUBCONSCIOUS  SELF.  251 


“  My  pen  now  became  altogether  wild,  sometimes 
affirming  and  sometimes  denying  the  existence  of  Cle¬ 
lia,  and  finally  performed  as  follows : 


“  I  wrote  ce.  and  u.  c.,  and  placed  my  pen  in  the 
middle.  It  refused  to  point  to  either,  but  upon  my 
writing  ‘partly  each’  above,  my  pen  underlined  my 
words.” 

This  case  beautifully  illustrates  the  evolution  and 
dissolution — the  birth,  life,  and  death — of  the  personal¬ 
ity  acquired  by  the  subwaking  self.  At  first  the  sec¬ 
ondary  subwaking  self  lacked  rationality  in  its  answers ; 
soon  it  gathered  round  itself  more  consciousness,  intel¬ 
ligence,  rationality,  and  even  rose  for  an  instant  into 
the  high  plane  of  self-consciousness  ;  but  there  it  could 
not  maintain  itself  long,  and  once  more  it  subsided 
into  the  obscure  regions  of  subpersonal  life,  whence  it 
emerged  possessing  none  the  less  memory  of  what  had 
passed  before.  The  subwaking  self  of  the  fourth  day 
is  fully  justified  in  saying  that  Clelia  does  not  exist. 
Who,  then,  speaks  ?  Nobody — that  is,  no  personality, 
no  independent  self-conscious  being,  but  only  the  sub¬ 
personal,  secondary,  subwaking  self,  an  unconscious 
cerebration,  if  you  please. 

And  still  Clelia  did  speak,  Clelia  did  exist,  there 
was  a  self-conscious  being  that  communicated  with  Mr. 
A. ;  but  how  could  the  subpersonal  self  convey  the 
idea  that  Clelia,  the  personal  being,  is  not  anything 
apart  from  itself,  from  the  subwaking  self  ?  The  sub- 


252 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  SUGGESTION. 


waking  self  exists,  bnt  Clelia — what  is  she  by  herself  ? 
Nobody,  nothing.  The  sub  waking  self  in  the  darkness 
of  its  impersonality  could  not  grapple  with  the  puzzling 
problem.  Clelia  is  a  reality  and  still  she  has  no  being. 
Clelia  is  the  subconscious  self,  and  yet  the  subconscious 
self  which  is  still  in  existence  is  not  Clelia.  How  solve 
this  intricate,  perplexing  problem  ?  The  subpersonal 
self,  by  its  very  nature,  could  not  grasp  the  situation, 
and  it  grew  bewildered,  and  became  agitated,  and  the 
pen  ran  riot,  now  affirming,  now  denying  the  exist¬ 
ence  of  Clelia,  at  last  assenting  to  the  significant  sug¬ 
gestion  “  ce.  and  u.  c. — partly  each.”  The  subwaking 
self  was  helped  out  from  its  seemingly  insurmountable 
difficulty. 

The  subwaking  self  is  devoid  of  all  personal  charac¬ 
ter  ;  it  is  both  subpersonal  and  impersonal.  And 
when  it  attains  the  plane  of  self-consciousness  and  the 
conditions  are  favourable  to  its  remaining  there  it  is 
always  roaming  about,  passing  through  the  most  fan¬ 
tastic  metamorphoses,  assuming  with  equal  ease  all  kinds 
of  personalities  without  regard  to  time,  station,  sex, 
or  age.  In  automatic  writing  and  kindred  phenomena 
the  subwaking,  subpersonal  self  is  now  Luther,  now 
Mme.  Pompadour,  now  Mozart,  now  Charlemagne,  now 
Aristotle,  Plato,  and  now  an  Indian  brave  or  squaw. 
With  marvellous  plasticity,  with  an  unequalled  placidity, 
it  assumes  indifferently  all  kinds  of  character  and  of 
person,  for  it  has  no  individuality.  This  imperson¬ 
ality  of  the  hypnotic  self  is  clearly  revealed  in  the  fol¬ 
lowing  hypnotic  experiments  performed  by  me  in  the 
Pathological  Institute  of  the  New  York  State  Hospitals : 

Mr.  Y.  F.  was  brought  by  me  into  a  deep  hypnotic 
condition,  and  a  post-hypnotic  suggestion  of  personal¬ 
ity  metamorphosis  was  given  to  him. 


THE  CHARACTER  OF  SUBCONSCIOUS  SELF.  253 

Experimenter .  I  will  wake  you  up  and  you  must 
write  by  the  aid  of  the  automatic  recorder,  “  I  am  to 
become  Sidis,  and  Miss  B.  (the  librarian  of  the  Institute, 
who  was  then  present  at  the  experiments)  will  be  your¬ 
self,  Y.  F.”  You  will  ask  her  how  her  health  is,  how 
she  is  getting  on  with  her  work.  Then  you  will  hyp¬ 
notize  her.  You  must  tell  her  to  sit  down  in  the  hyp¬ 
notic  chair,  and  if  she  does  not  want  to  you  must  com¬ 
pel  her.  You  must  carry  out  my  commands.  On 
awakening,  you  will  forget  everything.  (Wakes  up.) 

A  few  seconds  later  a  sudden  change  passed  over 
his  all  being,  and  he  abruptly  turned  to  Miss  B.  with 

“  How  do  you  do  ?  How  are  you  getting  on  with 
your  work  ?  ” 

B.  Pretty  well. 

Subject.  Sleep  well  ? 

B.  Yes. 

Sub.  Have  dreams  ? 

B.  Ho. 

Sub.  Get  up  early  ? 

B.  Yes. 

Sub.  How  early  ? 

B.  About  seven. 

Sub.  Well,  that  is  better  than  you  used  to  do.  You 
used  to  get  up  at  ten. 

I  then  walked  up  to  the  subject  and  addressed  him 
by  his  name,  Y.  F.  With  a  wave  of  his  hand  and 
with  a  half -humourous,  half -ironical  smile  of  the  man 
who  knows  better,  he  pointed  to  Miss  B.,  saying,  “  This 
is  Y.  F 

Exp.  Pardon  me,  what  is  your  name  ? 

Sub.  (with  a  smile).  My  name  is  Dr.  Sidis,  and — let 
me  see — your  name  is  Miss  B.  Will  you  sit  down, 
Miss  B.  ? 


254 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  SUGGESTION. 


I  did  not  tell  the  subject  to  take  me  for  Miss  B., 
but  it  seems  that  by  the  process  of  exclusion  he  had  to 
take  me  for  that  lady. 

Sub.  (turns  to  Miss  B.).  How  I  am  going  to  hyp¬ 
notize  you. 

He  leads  Miss  B.  over  to  the  hypnotic  chair,  but  as 
she  does  not  want  to  sit  down  he  pushes  her  down  by 
force.  Miss  B.  laughs  and  puts  her  hands  over  her  face. 

Sub.  How  put  your  hands  down  and  compose  your¬ 
self. 

Miss  B.  laughs. 

Sub.  (impatiently).  What  are  you  laughing  at  ? 
Just  concentrate  your  mind  on  sleep. 

Miss  B.  continues  laughing. 

Sub.  How  what  is  the  matter  ? 

Exp.  I  think  Mr.  Y.  F.  does  not  want  to  be  hyp¬ 
notized. 

Sub.  (angrily).  I  have  him  under  my  control ;  pos¬ 
sibly  your  standing  there  might  interfere  and  affect 
him.  (Turns  to  Miss  B.)  Here,  now,  don’t  purse 
your  mouth  up  like  that.  (Miss  B.  still  continues  laugh¬ 
ing.)  What  is  the  cause  of  all  this  ?  You  must  not 
allow  yourself  to  get  worked  up.  Sleep,  sleep,  sleep. 
(Then  suddenly  raises  her  hand  to  see  whether  it  is 
cataleptic.) 

As  the  lady  began  to  feel  rather  uncomfortable,  I 
went  up  to  the  subject,  passed  my  hand  over  his  face, 
and  he  at  once  passed  into  the  usual  passive  somnam¬ 
bulic  trance. 

Exp.  What  is  your  name  ? 

Sub.  Dr.  Sidis. 

Exp.  Ho,  your  name  is  not  Sidis,  but  Y.  F.  What 
is  your  name  ? 

Sub.  Y.  F. 


THE  CHARACTER  OF  SUBCONSCIOUS  SELF.  255 


Later  on,  when  I  asked  the  subject  how  he  could 
take  me  for  Miss  B.,  Miss  B.  for  himself,  and  himself 
for  Sidis,  he  simply  answered  :  “  I  felt  like  being  Dr. 
Sidis,  and  there  I  saw  Y.  F.,  for  some  reason  or  other, 
dressed  in  female  attire.  I  took  you  for  Miss  B.  I 
did  not  and  could  not  question  myself.  I  was  very, 
angry  when  you  interfered  and  suggested  that  Mr. 
Y.  F.  did  not  want  to  be  hypnotized.  I  felt  like  show¬ 
ing  you  out  of  the  room,  asking  you  to  mind  your  own 
business  there  in  the  library  room,  but  then  I  changed 
my  mind  and  simply  asked  you  to  step  aside.” 

Dr.  H.  Deady,  Chief  Associate  in  Pathology  at  the 
Pathological  Institute  of  the  Hew  York  State  Hospital, 
gives  the  following  account  of  an  experiment  in  person¬ 
ality  metamorphosis  performed  by  me  in  his  presence : 

“  Mr.  Y.  F.,  the  subject,  a  man  as  to  whose  health 
and  good  character  I  can  fully  testify,  was  hypnotized 
by  Dr.  B.  Sidis  in  my  presence.  Dr.  Sidis  gave  the 
subject  a  suggestion  that  on  awakening  and  hearing 
four  raps  he  should  become  myself,  Dr.  Deady,  and 
that  he  should  take  me  for  himself,  for  Y.  F.  The  sub¬ 
ject  was  then  awakened.  For  a  few  minutes  he  looked 
perfectly  normal ;  for  more  than  four  or  five  minutes 
the  subject  kept  up  an  animated  conversation,  smoked 
and  joked  freely.  When  the  conversation  reached  its 
height  of  animation  and  interest,  Dr.  Sidis  gave  the 
signal.  So  faint  and  indistinct  were  the  raps  that  they 
would  have  entirely  escaped  my  notice  had  I  not 
known  of  the  suggestion.  It  seemed  to  me  that  the 
subject  did  not  hear  the  raps,  but  he  did  hear  them 
after  all.  A  moment  later  a  profound  change  suddenly 
passed  over  his  face;  something  was  struggling  up 
into  his  mind.  At  first  Mr.  Y.  F.  looked  as  if  dazed  ; 
ihis  eyes  lost  their  natural  lustre  and  expression,  as 


256  THE  psychology  of  suggestion. 

if  darkness  set  on  them,  as  if  the  mind  became  en¬ 
shrouded  by  a  dense  cloud.  A  few  seconds  later  and 
everything  was  clear  again.  The  subject  looked  at  me 
fixedly  and  smiled.  He  was  myself,  Dr.  Deady.  He 
assumed  my  role  completely.  He  began  to  besiege  me 
with  questions — questions  which  I  had  put  to  him  when 
he  was  in  his  waking  state.  Perfectly  oblivious  to  the 
presence  of  other  people  in  the  room,  his  whole  atten¬ 
tion  was  engrossed  by  me,  whom  he  evidently  took  for 
himself,  for  Y.  F.  A  few  minutes  later  he  excused 
himself  for  leaving  the  room,  pleading  urgent  work  in 
the  office.  Without  attracting  his  attention,  I  followed 
him  at  a  distance.  He  entered  my  office,  sat  down  at 
my  desk,  but  was  at  a  loss  what  to  do.  A  letter  was 
lying  on  my  desk ;  he  took  it,  opened  it,  read  it 
through  carefully,  was  lost  in  thought  for  a  second  or 
two,  as  if  trying  to  remember  something,  but,  not  suc¬ 
ceeding,  put  the  letter  back  in  the  envelope.  At  this 
turn  Dr.  Sidis  came  into  the  office,  and  I  returned  to 
the  Pyschological  Laboratory  where  the  experiments 
were  made.  Through  a  telephone  that  connects  this 
laboratory  with  the  office  I  had  the  following  con¬ 
versation  with  Mr.  Y.  F. : 

“  Deady .  I  wish  you  would  order  an  ounce  of  tan¬ 
nic  acid  for  me. 

“  Subject.  Who  is  that  ? 

“  D.  Dr.  Y. 

“  Sub.  Who  is  Dr.  Y  ? 

“  D.  One  of  the  men  working  in  the  institute. 

“  Sub.  Who  is  going  to  pay  for  it  ? 

“  D.  The  office,  I  suppose. 

“  Sub.  W ell,  I  do  not  know  about  that ;  I’ll  have  to 
see  about  it.  Where  shall  I  get  it  ? 

“  D.  Send  to  any  of  the  druggists. 


f 


THE  CHARACTER  OF  SUBCONSCIOUS  SELF.  257 

“Sub.  "Well,  I’ll  see  about  that. 

“  D.  Say,  there  is  a  man  out  here — says  his  name  is 
V.  F. — wants  to  see  you. 

u  Sub.  What  does  he  want  ? 

“  D.  I  do  not  know. 

“  Sub.  I  have  no  time  to  bother  with  him.  Tell  him 
to  come  some  other  time ;  tell  him  to  go  paint  pictures. 
(The  subject  is  an  artist.) 

“  D.  He  can’t  paint. 

“Sub.  I  know  that,  but  I  would  not  tell  him  so. 
Tell  him  to  stay  where  he  is,  or  to  go  to  Jericho.  I 
am  busy. 

“  D.  All  right.  Good-bye. 

“  Dr.  Sidis  then  induced  the  subject  to  return  to  the 
room ;  a  young  lady  was  waiting  there  to  make  Dr. 
Deady’s  (that  is,  the  subject’s)  acquaintance.  When  in 
the  room  he  acted  Dr.  Deady  to  life.  I  say  ‘acted,’ 
but  it  was  not  that ;  he  seemed  to  feel  like  Dr.  Deady, 
he  was  Dr.  Deady,  and  as  such  he  introduced  himself 
to  Miss  S.,  who  had  entered  the  room  during  his  hyp¬ 
notic  sleep,  and  whom  he  had  never  met  nor  heard  of 
before.  When  asked  about  the  institute,  the  subject 
began  to  enlarge  on  the  scope  and  purpose  of  the  insti¬ 
tution,  of  the  pathological  work  on  sunstroke  cases 
done  by  Dr.  Tan  Gieson  and  his  associates,  and  of  the 
knowledge  the  medical  profession  really  needs.  When 
asked  about  Mr.  Y.  F.  (myself),  whose  presence  he 
seemed  totally  to  ignore,  he  gave  a  merciless  and  cut¬ 
ting  but  truthful  account  of  himself,  an  account  which 
he  would  otherwise  not  have  given  in  the  presence  of  a 
strange  young  lady.  The  conversation  then  turned  on 
hypnotism,  and  the  subject  related  two  of  my  cases  as 
happening  within  his  medical  experience.  So  true  to 
life,  so  complete  was  the  subject’s  mimicry  of  my  per- 


258 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  SUGGESTION. 


sonality,  that  he  almost  expressed  my  inmost  thoughts. 

.  .  .  As  the  subject  happens  to  live  in  the  same  house 
with  me,  I  availed  myself  of  the  opportunity  to  watch 
the  after-effects  of  the  experiments.  Dr.  Sidis,  it 
seemed,  did  not  sufficiently  remove  the  suggestions 
given  to  the  subject  during  hypnosis.  Mr.  Y.  F.  evi¬ 
dently  was  not  in  his  normal  state ;  something  was 
working  in  him.  When  left  alone  he  began  to  converse 
with  himself ;  he  wanted  to  know  i  who  he  was  not.’ 
Next  day  the  subject  was  hypnotized  again  by  Dr. 
Sidis,  and  the  after-effects  entirely  vanished.  Mr.  Y. 
F.  felt  better  and  happier  than  ever.” 

I  may  add  to  Dr.  Deady’s  account  that  before  de- 
hypnotizing  the  subject  I  suggested  to  him  that  he  was 
Mr.  Y.  F.,  but  that  on  awakening  he  would  not  remem¬ 
ber  what  had  transpired  during  hypnosis.  The  sug¬ 
gested  amnesia  did  not  remove  the  Deady  personality, 
but  simply  suppressed  it  into  the  region  of  the  subcon¬ 
scious.  Hence  the  after-effects,  hence  the  fact  of 
double  personality. 

The  phenomena  of  personality-metamorphosis  are 
still  clearer  revealed  in  the  following  experiments  : 

I  hypnotized  Mr.  A.  Fingold  and  brought  him  into 
a  deep  somnambulic  state.  I  gave  him  a  pencil  and 
paper  and  asked  him  to  sign  his  name.  He  signed  it  in 
English.  “You  are  ten  years  old,”  I  suggested.  The 
subwaking  self  instantaneously  changed  and  became  a 
boy  of  ten.  “  Sign  your  name,”  I  commanded.  My 
friends  present  at  the  experiments,  and  myself,  were 
surprised  to  see  the  hand  changing  its  direction,  and  in¬ 
stead  of  writing  from  left  to  right,  started  from  right 
to  left.  The  subject  signed  his  name  not  in  English 
but  in  the  modern  rabbinical  script  used  by  the  Eastern 
Jews  ;  the  subject  knew  no  other  alphabet  when  he  was 


THE  CHARACTER  OF  SUBCONSCIOUS  SELF.  259 


of  that  age.  His  brother,  Mr.  J.  F.,  who  was  also  pres¬ 
ent  at  the  seance ,  wondered  at  the  writing,  as  it  curiously 
resembled  the  actual  childish  handwriting  of  the  sub¬ 
ject.* 

“You  are  a  boy  of  seven.  Write  a  letter  to  your 
father.”  The  following  is  the  specimen  he  wrote  : 


V 


This  means : 

“Papa,f  I  want  you  to  come  to  me.  Chaim  J 
wants  to  lick  me.  Ab.  Fingold.” 


The  following  is  a  faithful  reproduction  of  the  sub¬ 
ject’s  writing : 


*  While  the  subject  lost  his  capacity  for  writing  English,  he  still 
understood  it  perfectly  well,  since  the  commands  and  suggestions 
were  given  to  him  in  English.  This  seems  to  indicate  that  the 
motor  memory  is  especially  subject  to  suggestion. 

f  He  wrote,  instead  of  “  father,”  the  word  “  tale  ”  (a  word  mostly 
used  by  Russian  Jewish  children). 

X  A  name  in  common  use  among  the  Russian  Jews. 


260  the  psychology  op  suggestion. 


10  years  old. 


The  same  kind  of  experiments  I  repeated  on  Mr.  F. 
at  another  seance. 

“  Yon  are  twelve  years  old.  Write  a  letter  to  your 
father.” 

The  following  is  an  exact  copy  of  his  letter : 


THE  CHARACTER  OF  SUBCONSCIOUS  SELF.  261 

The  translation  of  it  is : 

“  Dear  Father  : 

“  I  ask  of  you  to  send  me  money. 

“  A.  Fingold.” 

And  now  began  a  metamorphosis  of  personalities. 

Experimenter.  What  is  your  name  ? 

Subject.  Ab.  Fingold. 

Exp.  Ho,  no.  Your  name  is  not  Fingold.  Your 
name  is  Sam  Finestein.  Who  are  you  ?  What  is  your 
name  ? 

Sub.  Ab.  Fingold. 

Exp.  (in  a  commanding  voice).  You  are  Sam  Fine- 
stein,  and  you  are  thirty  years  old.  Who  are  you  ? 

Sub.  Sam  Finestein. 

Exp.  How  old  are  you  ? 

Sub.  I  am  thirty  years  old. 

Exp.  What  is  your  occupation  ? 

Sub.  I  have  none  for  the  present.  I  live  on  in¬ 
terest. 

Exp.  Are  you  married  ? 

Sub.  Ho. 

Exp.  (hesitatingly).  But  I  heard  you  were  married. 

Sub.  Ho,  I  am  not,  and  shall  never  court  one  unless 
she  be  rich. 

Exp.  (hesitatingly).  But,  Mr.  Finestein,  I  was  told 
you  had  two  children.  Are  you  a  widower  ? 

Sub.  (in  an  angry  tone).  I  want  you  to  understand 
that  I  am  not  married  and  never  was. 

Exp.  Have  you  ever  met  a  man  by  name  of  Ab. 
Fingold  ? 

Sub.  Yes,  I  think  I  did. 

Exp.  Can  you  tell  me  anything  about  him  ? 

Sub.  Yery  little ;  I  met  him  but  once.  If  I  am  not 


262 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  SUGGESTION. 


mistaken,  he  is  a  cigar-maker.  He  complains  of  head¬ 
aches  (the  subject’s  disease). 

Exp.  And  how  are  you  ? 

Sub.  Oh,  I  am  well. 

Exp.  Can  you  tell  me  anything  more  about  Ab. 
Fingold  ? 

Sub.  I  told  you  I  met  him  but  once. 

Exp.  Have  you  met  a  man  by  name  J.  Fingold  ? 
(The  subject’s  brother.) 

Sub.  Yes,  I  did.  Is  he  not  Mr.  Ab.  Fingold’s 
brother  ? 

Exp.  Yes.  Can  you  tell  me  anything  about  him  ? 

Sub.  People  say  he  is  an  honest  man,  but  that  is  all 
I  know  of  him.  He  is  to  me  a  stranger. 

Exp.  From  what  country  do  you  come  ? 

Sub.  From  Russia. 

Exp.  How  long  are  you  from  Russia  ? 

Sub.  Fifteen  years.  (Correct.  He  came  here  when 
he  was  fifteen  years  old,  and  being  now  thirty,  he  was 
just  fifteen  years  from  Russia.) 

Exp.  What  is  the  name  of  the  city  you  came 
from  ? 

Sub.  Brest -Litovsk.  (Correct.) 

Exp.  Where  do  you  live  now  ? 

Sub.  37  Main  St.,  Allston.  (A  fictitious  address. 
The  subject  lives  in  Boston.) 

Exp.  You  are  Jacob  Aaronson,  and  you  are  sixty 
years  old.  Who  are  you  ? 

Sub.  Jacob  Finestein. 

Exp.  (emphatically).  You  are  Jacob  Aaronson,  and 
you  are  sixty  years  old.  Who  are  you  ? 

Sub.  Jacob  Aaronson. 

Exp.  How  old  are  you  ? 

Sub.  Sixty  years. 


THE  CHARACTER  OF  SUBCONSCIOUS  SELF.  263 


Exp.  What  is  your  business  ? 

Sub.  I  retired  from  business. 

Exp.  (hesitatingly).  Have  you  any  money  of  your 
own  ? 

Sub.  You  are  too  inquisitive. 

Exp.  Are  you  married  ? 

Sub.  Oh,  no,  I  would  not  marry  again. 

Exp.  Again  ?  Have  you  been  married  once  ? 

Sub.  Yes;  that  was  about  forty  years  ago,  but  my 
wife  died  two  years  after  marriage,  and  I  made  up  my 
mind  not  to  marry  again.  She  was  a  loving  wife.  I 
shall  go  to  my  grave  a  widower. 

Exp.  W ould  not  you  like  to  make  your  will  ? 

Sub.  I  do  not  expect  to  die  so  soon.  Although  my 
hairs  are  gray,  still  I  am  strong  enough. 

Exp.  Have  you  met  a  man  by  name  Sam  Finestein  ? 

Sub.  I  think  I  met  him  about  thirty  years  ago. 
(Subject  was  now  sixty,  and  as  Sam  Finestein  he  was 
but  thirty.) 

Exp.  What  do  you  think  of  Sam  Finestein  ?  He 
says  he  does  not  want  to  court  any  girl  unless  she  is 
rich. 

Sub.  You  know  we  have  not  much  to  think  of  such 
a  fellow. 

Exp.  Have  you  met  one  by  name  Ab.  Fingold  ? 

Sub.  Let  me  see — let  me  see — let  me  see  (trying 
hard  to  recollect).  It  is  a  long  while  since  I  saw  him 
last — about  forty  years.  (The  subject  is  twenty  years 
of  age.) 

Exp.  Can  not  you  tell  me  anything  about  him  ? 

Sub.  I  can  not  tell  you  anything  about  him  ;  it  is  a 
long  while  since  I  met  him  last.  I  had  no  business 
with  him.  I  met  him  but  once.  He  did  me  no  harm, 

nor  has  he  done  me  any  good. 

18 


264 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  SUGGESTION. 


Exp.  "Where  do  you  come  from  ? 

Sub.  From  Russia. 

Exp.  How  long  are  you  from  Russia  ? 

Sub.  Forty-five  years.  (45  -f- 15  =  60.) 

Exp.  Would  you  like  to  tell  me  the  amount  of 
money  you  possess  ? 

Sub.  What  for  do  you  want  to  know  it  ? 

Exp.  It  is  good  to  know  for  the  sake  of  reference — 
for  the  sake  of  business. 

Sub.  But  I  do  no  business. 

Exp.  (hesitatingly).  Still  I  should  like  to  know. 

Sub.  (decisively).  I  shall  not  tell  you.  It  is  rather 
suspicious.  What  do  you  want  to  know  it  for  ?  It  is 
suspicious. 

I  made  him  then  pass  through  a  whole  series  of 
events.  I  suggested  to  him  he  had  a  poor  nephew.  He 
promised  to  start  “  the  poor  fellow  ”  into  business — to 
give  him  five  hundred  dollars.  He  was,  however,  bet¬ 
ter  than  his  word,  and  gave  the  nephew  one  thousand 
dollars.  “  What  can  one  do  with  five  hundred  dollars,” 
he  said. 

Exp.  (hesitatingly).  Would  not  you  like  to  sign  a 
check  on  one  thousand  dollars  ? 

Sub.  (decisively).  I  shall  sign  no  checks.  I  give 
cash  money.  (He  produced  from  his  pocket  imaginary 
money.) 

Exp.  Would  not  you  like  to  enter  into  business, 
Mr.  Aaronson  ? 

Sub.  I  worked  enough  in  my  life.  Let  young  peo¬ 
ple  do  the  work. 

During  the  time  of  his  being  J.  Aaronson  he  be¬ 
haved  like  an  old  invalid,  rocking  himself  slowly  and 
comfortably,  speaking  in  a  low,  drawling  tone,  and 
assuming  an  air  of  superior  knowledge  and  experience 


THE  CHARACTER  OF  SUBCONSCIOUS  SELF.  265 


<• 

in  his  conversation  with  his  nephew,  telling  the  latter, 
“  You  talk  like  a  young  man.” 

Exp.  What  is  your  name  ?  Who  are  you  ? 

Sub.  Jacob  Aaronson. 

Exp.  (authoritatively).  No,  you  are  not  Aaronson ! 
Who  are  you  ? 

Sub.  Sam  Finestein. 

Exp.  (authoritatively).  No,  you  are  not  Finestein! 
Who  are  you  ? 

Sub.  Ab.  Fingold. 

I  gave  him  now  a  post-hypnotic  suggestion  that 
after  awakening,  when  he  will  see  me  rub  my  hands,  he 
will  become  Sidis  and  take  me  for  Fingold.  I  woke 
him  up.  He  felt  all  right;  spoke  to  his  brother.  I 
began  to  rub  my  hands.  Something  began  to  struggle 
within  him.  He  looked  at  me  hard,  fixedly.  I  went 
on  rubbing  my  hands.  He  rose  from  his  chair  and  be¬ 
came  Sidis,  addressing  me  as  Fingold.  It  would  take 
up  too  much  space  to  describe  all  he  did  and  said ;  I  can 
only  say  that  he  mimicked  me  to  perfection.  My  friends 
could  not  restrain  themselves  from  laughing.  He  then 
proceeded  to  hypnotize  me,  doing  it  in  a  careful  and 
guarded  way.  He  rubbed  my  head,  telling  me  :  “You 
have  no  headaches — the  pain  is  gone.  I  took  away 
the  pain.  You  feel  well,  comfortable,  cheerful,”  and 
so  on.  He  then  took  a  chair,  placed  it  near  mine, 
sat  down,  took  my  hand  in  his,  and  said  :  “  I  give  you 
five  minutes  to  sleep.  The  sleep  will  refresh  you,  and 
you  will  wake  up  strong,  healthy,  and  in  good  spirits.” 
He  took  out  his  watch  and  looked  at  the  time.  At  the 
end  of  the  five  minutes  he  gave  me  again  the  sugges¬ 
tion  of  feeling  well,  etc.,  and  commanded  me  to  count 
till  five,  and  wake  up.  I  did  not  count.  He  raised 
his  voice,  and  in  a  tone  full  of  authority  commanded, 


266 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  SUGGESTION. 


“  Count  till  five,  and  wake  np !  ”  I  counted  till  five, 
but  did  not  open  my  eyes.  “Wake  up!  wake  up 
fully !  ”  he  urged.  I  kept  my  eyes  closed.  He  felt 
my  pulse ;  put  his  ear  to  my  chest.  “  Be  quiet !  Be 
quiet !  ”  he  soothed  me.  Then  suddenly  in  a  loud,  im¬ 
pressive  voice,  emphasizing  each  word,  he  authorita¬ 
tively  commanded,  “  Count  till  five,  and  wake  up !  ”  I 
counted,  and  opened  my  eyes.  All  the  time  I  watched 
him  closely  from  the  corner  of  my  eye ;  his  face  bore 
an  air  of  unrivalled  gravity.  Mr.  Fingold’s  sub  waking 
self  assumed  the  Sidis-personality,  and  for  the  time 
being  it  was  Sidis. 

I  went  behind  his  chair,  passed  my  hand  over  his 
face,  and  simply  said,  “  Sleep !  ”  He  closed  his  eyes 
and  passed  into  a  passive  state. 

Exp.  What  is  your  name  ?  Who  are  you  ? 

Sub.  Dr.  Sidis. 

Exp.  Ho,  you  are  not  Dr.  Sidis  !  Who  are  you  ? 

Sub.  Jacob  Aaronson. 

Exp.  Ho,  you  are  not  Jacob  Aaronson!  Who  are 
you  ? 

Sub.  Sam  Finestein. 

Exp.  Ho,  you  are  not  Sam  Finestein !  Who  are 
you  ? 

Sub.  Ab.  Fingold. 

When  Mr.  Fingold  awoke  he  did  not  remember 
anything.  “  I  slept  a  long  time,”  he  remarked.  I  then 
put  my  hand  to  his  forehead  and  told  him,  “  Try  hard, 
you  can  remember  everything.”  A  flood  of  facts  and 
items  poured  into  his  consciousness. 

In  the  presence  of  two  Boston  High  School  in¬ 
structors,  Mr.  S.  and  Mr.  E.,  I  made  similar  experi¬ 
ments  on  their  former  pupil  Mr.  W.  Mr.  W.  was 
now  a  boy  of  six ;  now  a  boy  of  twelve ;  now  a  Mr. 


THE  CHARACTER  OF  SUBCONSCIOUS  SELF.  267 


Thomas  Davis,  a  labourer  in  a  sugar  factory,  thirty 
years  of  age,  married,  and  having  two  children ;  now  a 
teacher  of  rhetoric;  now  Mr.  E.  The  change  from 
one  personality  to  the  other  was  instantaneous,  and 
the  acting  was  lifelike.  The  subwaking  self  actually 
passed  through  the  experience  of  each  personality  it 
assumed ;  it  lived  that  particular  life,  it  was  that  per¬ 
sonality. 

When  Mr.  W.  awoke  he  remembered  everything. 
It  was  a  dream.  He  remembered  how  he  worked 
nights  in  the  sugar  factory,  remembered  the  looks  of 
the  factory.  He  did  work  there.  He  remembered  the 
house  in  which  he  lived  with  his  wife  and  the  two 
“  kids,”  as  he  named  his  children.  He  remembered  he 
was  a  teacher  of  rhetoric  examining  and  censuring  his 
idle  class,  and  that  he  was  Mr.  E. 

The  dreaming,  subpersonal,  sub  waking  self  is  chame¬ 
leon  in  its  nature ;  it  is  almost  absolutely  plastic  ;  it  can 
get  metamorphosed  into  all  kinds  of  beings,  it  can 
assume  indifferently  and  instantaneously  all  sorts  of 
characters  and  personalities,  for  it  has  no  personality 
of  its  own.  Once  a  personality  is  assumed,  the  sub¬ 
waking  self  mimics  it  to  perfection.  Quick  as  light¬ 
ning,  like  an  evil  genius,  the  subwaking  self  gets  into 
possession  of  all  ideas  and  clusters  of  associations  that 
relate  to  that  assumed  personality,  embodies,  incarnates 
itself  in  them,  and  struts  about  a  different  person. 

Subpersonal  and  impersonal  as  the  subwaking  self 
is,  it  has  a  rich  store  of  memories,  and  as  it  gets  crystal¬ 
lized  into  a  new  person  it  takes  up  memories  adapted 
to  that  assumed  personality.  Thus,  Mr.  F.  was  Sam 
Finestein,  thirty  years  of  age ;  he  was  fifteen  years 
from  Russia,  because  he  left  that  country  when  he  was 
about  fifteen  years  old.  As  Jacob  Aaronson  he  was 


268 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  SUGGESTION. 


sixty  years  of  age  ;  lie  was  forty-five  years  from  Russia, 
and  again  for  the  same  reason. 

Recently  I  suggested  to  A.  Fingold  a  fictitious  per¬ 
sonality  of  a  Thomas  McYane.  He  told  me  he  was 
Irish;  came  from  Dublin;  was  a  bricklayer;  was  a 
devout  Catholic ;  went  to  church  every  Sunday ;  spoke 
of  the  “  Holy  Pope  ”  in  terms  of  reverence  and  awe ; 
upbraided  his  sons  for  being  great  drunkards. 

The  subwaking  self  is  impersonal,  and  still  it  pos¬ 
sesses  memory  of  all  the  personalities  it  has  assumed. 
In  the  case  of  Mr.  F.,  as  well  as  in  the  case  of  my  other 
subjects,  the  emphatic  denial  of  each  subsequent  per¬ 
sonality  brings  immediately  to  light  the  precedent  one. 
The  personalities  lived  through  form  a  chain  of  con¬ 
tiguous  memories.  The  subwaking  self  seems  to  know 
only  one  kind  of  association — that  of  contiguity. 


CHAPTEK  XXV. 


SUBCONSCIOUSNESS  AND  INSANITY. 

Befoke  we  proceed  to  sum  up  the  characteristics  of 
the  subconscious  self  I  think  it  would  be  well  to  show 
of  what  importance  the  phenomena  of  post-hypnotic 
suggestion  in  general,  and  those  of  transformation  of 
personality  in  particular,  are  in  relation  to  many  forms 
of  insanity.  There  is,  for  instance,  a  form  of  mental 
alienation  known  under  the  name  of  “  insistent  ideas.” 
From  some  source  unknown  to  the  patient  an  idea  rises 
into  consciousness  with  a  persistency  that  can  not  be 
overcome.  The  idea  haunts  the  patient  like  a  ghost. 
A  concrete  case  will  bring  this  disease  clearly  before 
the  mind  of  the  reader. 

A  young  man  of  intelligence,  of  good  education, 
and  free  from  hereditary  tendency  to  neurotic  affec¬ 
tions,  was  pursuing  his  studies  at  college,  when  one  day 
he  heard  his  companions  talking  of  the  mysterious 
fatality  connected  with  the  number  thirteen.  An  ab¬ 
surd  idea  took  possession  of  his  mind.  u  If  the  num¬ 
ber  thirteen  is  fatal,”  he  thought  to  himself,  “  it  would 
be  deplorable  if  God  were  thirteen.”  Without  attach¬ 
ing  any  importance  to  this  conception,  he  could  not 
prevent  himself  from  thinking  of  it  continually,  and  at 
each  instant  he  accomplished  mentally  an  act  which 
consisted  in  repeating  to  himself  “  God  thirteen.”  He 

269 


270 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  SUGGESTION. 


began  to  attach  a  certain  cabalistic  value  to  this  for¬ 
mula,  and  attributed  to  it  a  preservative  influence.  “  1 
know  perfectly  well,”  he  said,  “that  it  is  ridiculous 
that  I  should  think  myself  obliged  to  imagine  6  God 
thirteen  ’  in  order  to  save  myself  from  being  thirteen,” 
but  nevertheless  the  intellectual  act  was  repeated  with¬ 
out  ceasing.  Yery  soon  he  began  to  apply  the  same 
mysterious  word  to  eternity,  to  the  infinite,  and  similar 
ideas.  His  life  was  thus  passed  in  mentally  saying, 
“  God  thirteen !  The  infinite  thirteen !  Eternity  thir¬ 
teen  !  ”  The  patient  was  fully  aware  of  the  absurdity 
of  the  idea,  but  still  that  idea  continued  to  rise  from 
the  depth  of  his  mind  and  insert  itself  into  all  his  men¬ 
tal  operations. 

In  impulsive  insanity  we  meet  with  a  similar  state 
of  mind.  A  seemingly  unaccountable  impulse  sud¬ 
denly  seizes  on  the  mind  of  the  patient,  an  impulse 
which  is  sometimes  so  overwhelming  that  restraint  is 
simply  unthinkable.  Ho  sooner  does  the  impulse  come 
into  consciousness  than  it  works  itself  out  with  fatal 
necessity.  It  is  a  kind  of  emotional  automatism.  A 
young  man,  for  instance,  at  the  sight  of  a  black  silk 
dress  is  suddenly  possessed  by  an  impulse  to  ruin  silk 
dresses,  and  he  is  bound  to  carry  out  his  work  of  de¬ 
struction  whenever  he  is  confronted  with  a  dress  of 
that  material.  “  I  was  altogether  excited  by  the  sight 
of  that  handsome  silk  dress,  and  it  was  impossible  for 
me  to  resist.  I  do  not  know  why  the  idea  ever  came 
into  my  mind.”  A  young  lady  at  the  sight  of  a  bare 
shoulder  is  suddenly  seized  by  the  impulse  to  bite,  and 
she  straightway  sinks  her  teeth  into  the  flesh  of  her 
victim.* 


*  W.  Hammond,  A  Treatise  on  Insanity. 


SUBCONSCIOUSNESS  AND  INSANITY. 


271 


“  E.  D.,”  writes  Dr.  Stearns,  “  lias  been  insane  for 
several  months.  .  .  .  He  appeared  to  improve,  when 
on  one  occasion,  while  he  was  standing  in  his  room,  his 
attendant  advanced  toward  him  with  the  intention  of 
passing,  when  the  patient  suddenly  drew  back  and  struck 
the  attendant  a  blow  which  brought  the  latter  to  the 
floor.  Immediately  after  it  was  over  the  patient  apolo¬ 
gized,  and  said  he  was  very  sorry  and  quite  ashamed 
of  himself ;  he  could  not  tell  what  had  led  him  to 
strike,  especially  his  attendant,  with  whom  he  was  in 
the  most  pleasant  relations,  but  the  concept  suddenly 
flashed  upon  and  filled  his  mind  as  he  saw  him  ap¬ 
proach,  and  the  impulse  to  strike  became  irresistible.”  * 

Pyromania,  or  the  impulse  to  incendiarism,  klepto¬ 
mania,  or  the  impulse  to  steal,  homicidal  or  suicidal 
impulses — all  of  them  belong  to  that  peculiar  form  of 
mental  alienation  that  may  be  characterized  as  impul¬ 
sive  insanity. 

Whence  rise  those  insistent  ideas,  those  imperative 
conceptions,  those  mysterious,  unaccountable  impulses  ? 
We  can  not  ascribe  these  phenomena  to  the  mechanism 
of  associative  processes ;  we  can  not  say  that  some  of  the 
links  in  the  chain  'of  association  became  abnormally  pre¬ 
dominant,  because  those  impulses  are  felt  emphatically 
as  having  no  connection  with  the  association  process 
going  on  in  the  consciousness  of  the  patient.  Those 
impulses  are  psychical  parasites  on  the  patient’s  con¬ 
sciousness.  Ideas ,  impressions  implanted  in  the  sub¬ 
conscious  self,  when  accidentally  dissociated  from  the 
upper  personality ,  rise  to  the  periphery  of  conscious¬ 
ness  as  insistent  ideas ,  imperative  concepts ,  and  uncon¬ 
trollable  impulses  of  all  sorts  and  descriptions.  In 


*  H.  P.  Stearns,  Mental  Diseases. 


272 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  SUGGESTION. 


hypnotic ,  and  especially  in  post-hypnotic ,  suggestion 
we  hold  the  hey  to  all  forms  of  conceptual  and  impul¬ 
sive  insanity. 

When  my  subject,  Mr.  A.  Fingold,  was  in  a  deep 
hypnosis  and  his  subconsciousness  was  laid  bare,  I  sug¬ 
gested  to  him  that  when  he  will  wake  up  and  hear  a 
knock  he  shall  drive  away  his  brother  and  Mr.  H.  L.  from 
the  sofa  on  which  they  were  sitting  and  lie  down  there. 
When  Mr.  Fingold  woke  up  and  the  signal  was  given, 
he  rushed  to  the  sofa  with  such  impetuosity  that  his 
brother  was  frightened  and  left  the  place  at  once. 
Mr.  H.  L.  was  rather  tardy  in  his  retreat.  The  subject 
angrily  caught  hold  of  his  arm  and  pushed  him  away 
with  such  violence  that  poor  Mr.  H.  L.  flew  to  the  op¬ 
posite  wall.  The  subject  then  stretched  himself  out  on 
the  sofa  and  felt  satisfied.  As  in  the  case  of  impulsive 
insanity,  the  suggested  impulse  set  on  suddenly  and 
was  enacted  with  a  like  emotional  automatism. 

Experiments  of  like  nature  I  have  also  performed 
on  other  subjects,  and  with  like  results.  The  suggested 
ideas  buried  in  the  depths  of  the  subconsciousness  fre¬ 
quently  rise  to  the  surface  of  the  subjects  active  life , 
and  are  realized  with  all  the  vehemence  and  fatality  of 
an  irresistible  insane  impulse. 

The  post-hypnotic  suggestion  may  manifest  itself  in 
a  different  form.  Instead  of  a  sudden  onset  it  may  de¬ 
velop  slowly,  grow,  and  finally  become  uncontrollable. 
I  hypnotized  Mr.  Y.  F.,  and  suggested  to  him  that  a 
few  minutes  after  awakening  he  should  sit  down  on 
Miss  B.’s  chair  ;•  that  if  she  would  not  like  to  leave  he 
should  make  her  go.  A  few  minutes  after  awakening 
Mr.  Y.  F.  turns  to  Miss  B.,  whose  acquaintance  he 
made  at  the  beginning  of  the  experiments,  with  the  fol¬ 
lowing  request : 


SUBCONSCIOUSNESS  AND  INSANITY. 


273 


V.  F.  May  I  sit  on  your  chair  ? 

B.  Why  do  you  want  my  chair  ?  There  are  other 
chairs  in  the  room ;  can’t  you  take  one  of  them  ? 

V.  Well,  you  take  this  one,  will  you  ? 

B.  Ho;  I  am  very  well  satisfied  with  this  one. 
Won’t  that  one  do  you  just  as  well  ? 

F.  Ho.  I  wish  you  would  give  it  to  me — won’t 
you  ? 

B .  ISTo. 

V.  I  think  that  one  over  there  will  be  much  more 
comfortable.  I  would  rather  have  this  one. 

B.  Why  can’t  you  let  me  sit  here  ? 

V.  I  can,  but  I  would  like  to  have  the  chair.  I 
could  throw  you  out,  but  that  would  not  be  exactly 
square  ;  but  at  the  same  time  I  want  that  chair. 

B.  Won’t  any  other  chair  answer  ? 

V.  Yes,  any  other  chair  would  answer  my  purpose 
just  as  well. 

B.  Have  you  any  claim  to  it  ? 

V.  Ho,  no  claim  or  right,  but  I  want  it.  Let  me 
have  it,  won’t  you  ?  You  just  like  to  tease  me. 

B.  Why  do  you  think  so  ?  To  keep  one’s  chair  is 
not  teasing. 

V.  You  see,  it  works  this  way  :  you  don’t  want  the 
chair,  and  you  know  I  want  it,  but  you  won’t  let  me 
have  it,  and  that  amounts  to  teasing. 

B.  Why  do  you  want  it  ? 

V.  Ho  reason.  I  simply  want  it. 

B.  That  is  very  little  reason. 

V.  Yes,  very  little.  You  don’t  simply  want  to 
keep  what  you  have ;  you  don’t  want  to  give  it  to  me. 
That  is  your  reason,  is  it  not  ? 

B.  I  am  more  comfortable  here. 

V.  You  are  only  teasing  me.  I  can  see  your  eyes 


274 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  SUGGESTION. 


twinkle.  You  look  at  Dr.  Sidis  and  see  what  he  thinks 
about  it. 

B.  I  won’t  give  you  this  chair. 

V.  Is  that  jour  only  reason  ? 

B.  What  is  your  reason  ? 

V.  I  have  no  reason.  I  have  only  a  sneaking  sort 
of  desire  to  sit  down  in  the  chair. 

The  desire  kept  on  growing.  The  subject  pleaded 
for  a  seat  in  the  chair  with  more  and  more  urgency. 
He  must  have  this  particular  chair,  happen  what  may. 
The  desire  became  an  irresistible  impulse.  Mr.  Y.  F. 
took  a  piece  of  cord,  tied  it  round  the  much-longed-for 
chair,  and  exclaimed :  “  How  I  will  show  you  a  modern 
Stonewall  Jackson.  If  you  don’t  get  up  I  shall  pull 
you  down.  I’ll  count  three.”  He  counted  one,  two, 
and  when  he  came  to  three  he  gave  a  strong  pull,  and 
pulled  out  the  chair  from  under  Miss  B.  and  sat  down 
on  it  in  great  haste. 

The  evolution  of  the  impulse  was  here  a  gradual 
one.  Each  rebuff  served  only  to  increase  the  intensity 
of  the  impulse,  until  at  last  the  impulse  became  irre¬ 
sistible  and  the  craved-for  object  was  taken  by  main 
force.  Thus  we  see  that  insistent  ideas,  imperative 
conceptions,  and  insane  impulses  in  general  work 
through  the  mechanism  of  the  subconscious.  An  idea 
sunk  into  the  disaggregated  subconsciousness,  like  a 
post-hypnotic  suggestion,  struggles  up  as  an  insane 
impulse. 

The  phenomena  of  the  subconscious  give  us  an  in¬ 
sight  into  the  nature  of  paramnesia.  Paramnesia,  or 
illusions  of  memory,  may  be  divided  into  positive  or 
additive  and  negative  or  subtractive.  In  positive  or 
additive  paramnesia  the  patient  recognises  a  new  per¬ 
ception  as  having  taken  place  within  his  former  expe- 


SUBCONSCIOUSNESS  AND  INSANITY. 


275 


rience.  The  patient  meets  strangers  as  old  familiar 
acquaintances.  Thus  Jensen  reports  the  case  of  a  pa¬ 
tient  complaining  to  him:  “Doctor,  I  feel  so  very 
strange  to-day.  When  I  stand  like  this  and  look 
at  you,  then  it  seems  to  me  as  if  you  had  stood  there 
once  before,  and  as  if  everything  had  been  just  the 
same,  and  as  if  I  knew  what  was  coming.” 

An  interesting  case  of  paramnesia  is  reported  by 
Dr.  Arnold  Pick  in  the  Archiv  fur  Psychiatrie  for 
1876.  An  educated  man  who  seems  to  have  under¬ 
stood  his  disease,  and  who  himself  gave  a  written  de¬ 
scription  of  it,  was  seized  at  the  age  of  thirty-two  with 
a  singular  mental  affection.  If  he  was  present  at  a 
social  gathering,  if  he  visited  any  place  whatever,  if  he 
met  a  stranger,  the  incident  with  all  the  attendant  cir¬ 
cumstances  appeared  so  familiar  that  he  was  convinced 
of  having  received  the  same  impression  before,  of  hav¬ 
ing  been  surrounded  by  the  same  persons  or  the  same 
objects,  under  the  same  sky  and  the  same  state  of 
weather.  If  he  undertook  any  new  occupation,  he 
seemed  to  have  gone  through  with  it  at  some  previous 
time  and  under  the  same  conditions.  The  feeling 
sometimes  appeared  the  same  day,  at  the  end  of  a  few 
moments  or  hours,  sometimes  not  till  the  following  day, 
but  always  with  perfect  distinctness.* 

Sander  brings  the  case  of  an  invalid  who,  upon 
learning  of  the  death  of  a  person  whom  he  knew,  was 
seized  with  an  indefinable  terror,  because  it  seemed  to 
him  that  he  knew  of  the  event  before.  “  It  seemed  to 
me  that  at  some  time  previous,  while  I  was  lying  here  in 
this  same  bed,  X.  came  to  me  and  said,  ‘  Muller  is  dead.’ 
I  replied,  ‘  Muller  has  been  dead  for  some  time.’  ”  f 


*  Ribot,  Diseases  of  Memory, 
f  Archiv  fur  Psychiatrie,  1873,  vol.  iv. 


276 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OP  SUGGESTION. 


Similar  cases  of  paramnesia  occur  also  in  normal 
life.  Prof.  Poyce,  in  an  interesting  article,  Hallu¬ 
cinations  of  Memory  and  Telepathy,  *  called  attention 
to  “  a  not  yet  recognised  type  of  instantaneous  hallu¬ 
cination  of  memory,  consisting  in  the  fancy  at  the  very 
moment  of  some  exciting  experience  that  one  has  ex¬ 
pected  it  before  its  coming.”  According  to  Prof. 
Poyce,  many  facts  of  telepathy  recorded  by  Gourney  in 
his  book  The  Phantasms  of  the  Living  belong  to  this 
last  type  of  paramnesia. 

In  subtractive  paramnesia,  on  the  contrary,  the  pa¬ 
tient  has  a  false  memory  as  to  an  event  that  had  actu¬ 
ally  taken  place  in  his  experience.  He  is  sure  that  the 
event  has  never  occurred  to  him.  Thus  Wernicke 
brings  the  case  of  a  patient  who  assaulted  a  public  offi¬ 
cial  and  afterward  could  not  be  convinced  that  he  had 
ever  done  anything  like  it,  although  he  remembered 
well  everything  that  happened  at  that  time. 

How  shall  we  explain  these  interesting  phenomena 
of  paramnesia  ?  We  can  not  possibly  agree  with  Pibot, 
who  thinks  that  paramnesia  is  due  to  the  fact  that  the 
memorial  image  evoked  by  the  present  perception  is 
more  vivid  than  the  perception  itself,  and  the  result  is 
that  the  present  experience  as  the  weaker  and  fainter 
one  is  considered  a  copy  of  the  more  vivid  memorial 
image. 

It  does  not  require  a  deep  insight  to  see  the  weak¬ 
ness  of  such  a  forced  explanation.  First  of  all,  Pibot 
is  wrong  in  identifying  pastness  with  faintness.  A 
faint  perception  is  not  a  past  perception.  Second, 
even  if  we  accept  the  proposition  that  faintness  gives 
the  feeling  of  pastness,  Pibot  is  still  wrong  in  his  ex- 


*  Mind,  xiii. 


SUBCONSCIOUSNESS  AND  INSANITY. 


277 


planation.  He  simply  did  not  analyze  well  tlie  phe¬ 
nomena  of  paramnesia.  In  paramnesia  the  present 
perception  has  about  it  all  the  vivid  feeling  of  present¬ 
ness  ;  what  is  added  to  it  is  the  feeling  that  the  percep¬ 
tion  has  been  experienced  formerly.  Were  Ribot’s 
account  the  true  one,  the  present  perception  would  not 
have  been  felt  as  present,  but  as  past,  and  the  evoked 
memorial  image  instead  would  have  been  felt  as  pres¬ 
ent,  which  is  not  the  case.  Besides,  such  a  process 
would  give  rise  not  to  paramnesia  but  to  mere  illu¬ 
sion.  The  phenomena  of  paramnesia  are  due  to  a 
disaggregation  effected  within  the  consciousness  of  the 
patient. 

The  disaggregated  subconsciousness,  on  account  of 
its  wider  range  of  sensibility,  or  on  account  of  the  tem¬ 
porary  inhibition  of  the  upper  consciousness,  gets  the 
perception  first,  and  after  some  appreciable  interval  it  is 
transmitted  with  a  feeling  of  pastness  to  the  upper  con¬ 
sciousness,  which  by  this  time  already  has  its  own  direct 
perception.  The  present  perception  of  the  upper  con¬ 
sciousness  is  then  recognised — recognised  as  familiar,  as 
having  already  been  before  within  the  experience  of 
the  patient.  This  transmitted  message  coming  from 
the  secondary  to  the  primary  self  may  be  more  or  less 
instantaneous,  or  it  may  come  some  time  after,  as  in  the 
interesting  case  of  the  patient  reported  by  Dr.  Pick. 

Subtractive  paramnesia  admits  of  still  easier  expla¬ 
nation  if  regarded  from  the  standpoint  of  the  subcon¬ 
scious.  The  disaggregated  secondary  consciousness 
possesses  itself  of  certain  details  in  experience  that 
never  reached  the  primary  consciousness.  The  patient 
therefore  with  full  right  asserts  that  he  is  sure  that  the 
given  details  had  never  occurred  within  his  self-con¬ 
scious  experience. 


278 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  SUGGESTION. 


Subtractive  paramnesia  is  analogous  to  the  phe¬ 
nomena  of  negative  hallucination  which  occur  in  post¬ 
hypnotic  or  hypnonergic  states.* 

Turning  now  to  demonomania  and  paranoia,  we  once 
more  encounter  the  underground  working  of  the  sub¬ 
conscious  self.  In  paranoia  we  find  that  an  insistent 
idea  or  an  imperative  concept,  often  accompanied  by 
illusions  and  hallucinations,  and  detached  from  the  main 
stream  of  consciousness,  gets  inserted  into  the  associa¬ 
tive  processes  of  the  primary  self.  The  idea  soon  gath¬ 
ers  round  itself  clusters  of  other  ideas  and  forms  a  system 
tinged  with  emotional  colour.  The  insistency  and  un¬ 
controllableness  of  this  slowly  evolving  disaggregated 
cluster  give  it  all  the  characteristics  of  an  external  re¬ 
ality.  Hence  we  have  a  more  or  less  stable  delusion  of 
a  systematized  order.  Ideas  and  impulses  coming  from 
the  disaggregated  subconscious  self  are  projected  out¬ 
ward,  and  ascribed  to  the  activity  of  an  external  agency. 
Hence  the  ideas  of  persecution  by  hidden,  mysterious 
enemies. 

With  the  evolution  of  that  subconscious  cluster  the 
primary  self  is  weakened,  a  new  specious  personality  is 
formed  within  the  depths  of  the  subconscious,  a  per¬ 
sonality  which  rises  to  the  surface  of  consciousness  and  - 
occupies  the  whole  field  of  mental  vision,  the  old  self 
existing  in  the  background  as  memory.  Hence  we 
have  the  last  stage  of  paranoia,  known  as  the  stage  of 
transformation  of  personality. 

To  give  the  reader  an  idea  of  the  mental  malady 
known  as  paranoia,  I  select  two  cases  from  the  reports 
sent  to  me  for  the  Pathological  Institute  of  the  Hew 


*  Subtractive  paramnesia  is  a  form  of  amnesia.  For  a  fuller  dis¬ 
cussion  of  amnesia  see  Chapters  XXI-XXIII. 


SUBCONSCIOUSNESS  AND  INSANITY.  279 

York  State  Hospitals  by  Dr.  Spellman,  of  Manhattan 
Hospital,  Ward’s  Island,  Hew  York  : 

“Patient,  B.  F.  Hunter,  was  admitted  in  1895, 
aged  thirty-seven.  Memory  perfect.  He  gives  a  full 
account  of  himself  up  to  the  year  1892.  4  In  1892,’ 

says  the  patient,  4 1  lived  with  Mr.  C.  Mr.  C.  went  to 
the  country,  and  I  was  to  look  after  the  place.  One 
hot  summer  day  when  I  was  asleep  a  sharp,  distinct 
voice  called  me.  I  went  to  look  for  the  caller,  but 
there  was  none  outside.  There  was  a  man  who  lived  in 
the  house  and  who  took  care  of  the  property.  He  would 
leave  in  the  morning  and  come  back  at  night.  I  asked 
him  if  he  had  called  during  the  day,  and  he  said  he  had 
not.  At  night  I  went  down  to  my  house  and  said  to 
my  wife :  44  Something  very  queer  has  happened.  I 
heard  a  sharp,  distinct  voice  call  me,  and  when  I  looked 
out  of  the  window  I  saw  no  one.”  Another  time,  about 
half  past  twelve  in  the  night,  I  heard  again  a  sharp, 
distinct  voice  call  me,  44  Ben !  Ben !  ”  and  when  I 
looked  out  of  the  window  I  could  see  no  one.  This 
was  the  third  time  I  had  been  called. 

44  4  During  Cleveland’s  second  term,  in  1892,  one 
night  while  I  lay  in  bed  I  saw  G-rover  Cleveland  in  the 
Executive  Mansion.  Some  other  party  stood  behind 
me  and  said  to  me,  44  What  do  you  see  ?  ”  I  said,  44 1 
see  Grover  Cleveland.”  44  Go  and  tell  him,”  said  the 
person  behind  me,  44  that  he  will  be  the  next  President 
of  the  United  States.”  About  the  8th  of  March  I  sent 
a  long  letter  to  Mr.  Cleveland.  I  don’t  know  exactly 
what  I  said,  but  here  are  a  few  of  the  words :  44  On 
a  certain  day  of  the  month  God  notified  me  to  tell 
you  that  you  would  be  the  next  President  of  the 
United  States,  and  so  you  are.  When  God  tells  his 
servant  to  tell  a  man  such  things  as  I  have  told 
19 


280 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  SUGGESTION. 


you  there  is  something  behind  it  unknown  to  human 
beings.” 

“  4  The  next  year,  1894,  I  wrote  letters  to  all  the 
governors  of  the  States  to  the  following  effect :  “  It  is 
hereby  known  to  all  nations,  people,  and  things  that 
there  is  a  prophet  among  the  people  with  bad  tidings 
from  God.  Very  respectfully,  B.  F.  Hunter.” 

44 4  Last  June,  1896,  it  was  revealed  to  me  that  I  was 
the  prophet  Nebuchadnezzar.’  ” 

The  other  case  reported  by  Dr.  Spellman  is  also 
characteristic  of  paranoia,  and  points  to  the  subcon¬ 
scious  source  whence  the  delusion  originates. 

44  Solomon  Monroe.  Admitted  January  6,  1897, 
aged  thirty-four ;  nativity,  Germany  ;  salesman ;  Prot¬ 
estant  ;  single ;  temperate.  No  hereditary  tendencies 
are  known  to  exist.  The  cause  of  attack  is  supposed  to 
be  lack  of  food.  The  patient  states  emphatically  that 
he  is  Jesus  Christ,  and  his  general  demeanour  corre¬ 
sponds  to  his  statement.  He  states  as  follows :  4 1  have 
told  you  that  I  am  Jesus  Christ.  I  have  been  Jesus 
Christ  since  my  birth.  I  have  not  always  known  it, 
but  found  it  out  about  six  weeks  before  I  came  here. 
I  received  my  proper  enlightenment.  I  was  educated 
in  the  common  schools  of  Germany.  Since  coming  to 
New  York,  about  four  and  a  half  years  ago,  I  have  fol¬ 
lowed  out  a  religious  train  of  thought,  teaching  Bible 
classes,  etc.  I  had  hope;  birthmarks  on  my  body — 
viz.,  scars  on  my  face  and  sign  of  a  cross  on  my  fore¬ 
head  and  hands — confirmed  my  belief.  I  was  anointed 
on  my  head.  This  anointment  came  during  the  night. 
Later  the  revelations  came  through  my  sight  and  ears. 
I  have  them  now  days  and  nights.  God  my  Father 
holds  constant  communication  with  me.  I  am  the  same 
Christ  treated  of  in  the  Holy  Word,  and  this  is  my  sec- 


SUBCONSCIOUSNESS  AND  INSANITY. 


281 


ond  coming.  Father,  Father,  the  Holy  Spirit  has  al¬ 
ways  been  within  me.’  The  patient  eats  and  sleeps 
well,  and  aside  from  his  general  exaltation  of  demeanour 
appears  as  other  people.” 

The  phenomena  of  personality-metamorphosis  in 
hypnotic  and  post-hypnotic  or  hypnonergic  states  re¬ 
produce  on  a  smaller  scale  the  condition  of  paranoia. 
We  find  in  them  the  growth  of  systematized  delusions 
culminating  in  the  phenomenon  of  personality-meta¬ 
morphosis.  The  reader  is  already  acquainted  with  these 
facts  from  our  previous  experiments,  and  there  is  no 
use  for  me  to  bring  here  more  of  them.  One  thing  is 
clear  from  the  experiments,  and  that  is  the  fact  that  the 
phenomena  of  personality  metamorphosis  are  due  to  a 
specious  parasitic  personality  formed  within  the  depth 
of  the  disaggregated,  whether  by  hypnotization  or  by 
disease — subconscious  self.  Dissociation  of  the  sub¬ 
conscious  is  a  requisite  of  paranoia* 

Prof.  Josiah  Boyce,  in  his  remarkable  paper  on 
Some  Observations  on  the  Anomalies  of  Self- Conscious¬ 
ness, f  maintains  that  self-consciousness  is  social  con¬ 
sciousness,  and  whenever  the  derangement  is  in  the 
mass  of  ideas  involving  social  relationship  there  neces¬ 
sarily  happens  a  transformation  of  personality.  That 
may  be.  But  Prof.  Boyce  must  still  explain  the  fact 
why  this  change  in  the  social  consciousness  should  be 

*  The  theory  of  Ribot,  that  metamorphosis  of  personality  is  due 
to  a  fundamental  change  in  common  sensibility,  is  more  fanciful 
than  it  is  commonly  supposed,  for  that  fundamental  change  remains 
yet  to  be  proved.  There  may  be  a  change  in  common  sensibility 
without  a  transformation  of  personality,  and  also  a  transformation 
of  personality  without  a  change  in  common  sensibility.  Besides, 
Ribot’s  theory  can  not  account  for  the  phenomena  of  coexistent 
double  or  multiple  personality. 

f  The  Psychological  Review,  November,  1895. 


282 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  SUGGESTION. 


felt  as  induced  by  mysterious  revelations,  uncontrol¬ 
lable,  heavenly  inspirations,  and  the  activity  of  hidden 
agencies.  How  does  it  happen  that  an  uncontrollable 
element,  a  “  sort  of  non-ego,”  is  formed  within  “  the 
ego  ”  of  the  patient  ?  How  do  insistent  ideas,  impera¬ 
tive  conceptions,  irresistible  impulses,  seize  on  the  con¬ 
sciousness  of  the  patient  ?  What  is  the  source  of  the 
strange  elements  out  of  which  paranoia  evolves  ?  This 
source  is  the  disaggregated  subconsciousness.* 

When  my  work  was  already  complete  Prof.  James 
called  my  attention  to  the  recent  work  of  Wernicke, 
Grundriss  der  Psychiatries  in  which  the  author  dis¬ 
cusses  the  phenomena  of  paranoia.  It  is  interesting  to 
observe  that  Hr.  C.  Wernicke  is  so  near  to  the  solution 
of  the  problem  and  still  he  does  not  see  it  in  its  full 
light.  He  characterizes  paranoia  as  a  “  sejunction  ”  of 
consciousness ;  he  tells  us  that  in  the  state  of  paranoia 
the  patient  is  vexed  by  what  Wernicke  calls  “  autoch- 
thonic  ideas  ” — ideas  that  arise  from  the  depth  of  the 
patient’s  “  sejuncted  ”  mind,  and  which  the  patient  pro¬ 
jects  outside  him.  I  heartily  agree  with  Hr.  Wernicke, 
and  I  am  glad  to  find  that  the  work  of  such  a  great 
physiologist  and  psychiatrist  falls  in  the  same  line  with 
my  own  investigations.  What,  however,  Hr.  Wernicke 
does  not  see  is  the  full  meaning  of  “  sejuncted  con¬ 
sciousness,”  the  fact  that  paranoia  is  essentially  a  dis¬ 
eased  hypnoidic  state ,  a  pathological  condition  of  the 
subconscious  self. 

The  subconscious  self  must  not  be  conceived  as  any 
distinct  being;  it  is  rather  a  diffused  consciousness  of 
any  strength  of  intensity  with  a  content  rich  and  varied. 

*  I  may  add  that  in  a  private  talk  with  me  Prof.  Royce  admit¬ 
ted  that  we  must  look  for  that  source  to  the  subconscious. 

f  Theil  II,  Hie  Paranoischen  Zustande,  1896. 


SUBCONSCIOUSNESS  AND  INSANITY. 


283 


The  subconscious,  as  we  have  pointed  out,  is  impersonal. 
Occasionally,  however,  it  reaches  the  plane  of  self-con¬ 
sciousness,  but  then  soon  subsides  again  into  its  former 
impersonal  obscurity.  The  subconscious  self  may  be¬ 
come  crystallized  into  a  personality,  but  this  personality 
is  ephemeral,  transient  in  its  nature.  Suppose,  now, 
that  the  subconscious  or  secondary  self  is  easily  disso¬ 
ciated  from  the  primary  self  or  conscious  personality ; 
suppose,  further,  that  within  the  bosom  of  the  subcon¬ 
scious  a  new  personality  is  in  the  process  of  formation — 
a  personality  no  longer  of  an  evanescent  character,  but 
of  a  stable  nature — we  shall  then  have  a  case  of  de¬ 
composition  of  personality.  The  newly  forming  para¬ 
sitic  personality  will  again  and  again  obtrude  itself  on 
the  primary  consciousness,  and  time  and  again  it  will 
be  beaten  back  into  its  subconscious  obscurity.  The 
patient  will  then  consider  himself  as  having  a  devil 
within  him,  a  demon  that  fights  and  tempts  his  honest 
personality.  If  the  parasitic  personality  grows  in 
strength  or  the  primary  personality  is  weakened  the 
patient  may  regard  himself  as  double — the  two  person¬ 
alities  are  of  equal  rank.  It  is  not,  however,  only  one 
personality,  but  two,  three,  and  even  more  coexistent 
personalities  may  be  formed  within  the  womb  of  the 
subconscious.  We  have,  then,  the  cases  of  the  mental 
malady  known  under  the  name  of  demonomania. 

Demonomania  is  a  special  form  of  paranoia ;  it  is  a 
decomposition  of  personality ;  it  is  the  formation  of  new 
personalities  within  the  depths  of  the  subconscious. 
The  patient  claims  to  be  possessed  by  a  demon.  The 
evil  spirit  sometimes  recounts  what  he  did  on  earth, 
and  what  he  has  done  since  he  left  it  for  the  infernal 
regions.  The  attack  throws  the  patient  into  a  fury  of 
excitement,  into  violent  convulsions.  In  the  presence 


284 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  SUGGESTION. 


of  a  stranger,  especially  of  a  priest,  tlie  violence  of  the 
convulsions  is  greatly  increased.  When  the  crisis  is 
over  the  patient  looks  about  with  a  somewhat  astonished 
air,  and  returns  to  the  work  in  which  he  was  engaged 
at  the  beginning  of  the  fit.  The  patient  does  not  re¬ 
member  what  he  had  said  or  done  during  the  attack. 
In  very  rare  cases,  where  there  is  memory,  the  patient 
asserts :  “I  know  well  that  he  (the  devil)  has  said  so, 
or  done  so  and  so,  but  it  was  not  I.  If  my  mouth  has 
spoken,  if  my  hand  has  struck,  it  was  he  who  made  me 
speak  and  caused  the  blows.”  The  patient  is  sometimes 
possessed  not  by  one  demon,  but  by  many  demons.  The 
patient  feels  and  hears  them  moving  in  his  body. 

S.,  forty  years  of  age,  is  devoured  by  two  demons 
who  have  taken  up  their  abode  in  her  haunches  and 
come  forth  through  her  ears.  Devils  have  made  several 
marks  upon  her  person,  and  her  heart  is  daily  displaced. 
She  shall  never  die,  though  the  devil  may  tell  her  to  go 
and  drown  herself.  She  has  seen  the  two  devils  by 
which  she  is  possessed.  They  are  cats,  one  of  which 
is  yellow  and  white,  and  the  other  black.  She  puts 
tobacco,  wine,  and  particularly  grease,  upon  her  head 
and  in  her  ears,  to  exorcise  the  devil.  She  walks  con¬ 
stantly  with  naked  feet  in  fair  and  rainy  weather,  and 
while  walking  picks  up  whatever  comes  in  her  way. 
She  mislays  her  clothing  ;  eats  largely.  She  sleeps  not ; 
is  filthy,  emaciated,  and  her  skin  very  much  sunburnt. 
There  is  no  coherence  in  the  system  of  ideas  that  con¬ 
stantly  occupies  her  mind. 

A  young  man  at  Charenton  has  a  dracq  in  his  abdo¬ 
men.  The  dracq  or  destiny  enters  his  head,  tortures 
him  in  a  thousand  ways  during  the  day,  and  particu¬ 
larly  in  the  night  addresses  and  threatens  him.  If  I 
ask  this  unfortunate  young  man  what  this  dracq  may 


SUBCONSCIOUSNESS  AND  INSANITY. 


285 


be,  “  I  know  nothing  about  it,”  he  replies,  “  but  it  is 
a  destiny  that  has  been  imposed  upon  me,  and  every¬ 
thing  has  been  done  to  deliver  me  from  it,  but  with¬ 
out  success.”  * 

Prof.  James,  in  his  article,  Notes  on  Automatic 
Writing,  j-  brings  a  very  interesting  case  of  personality 
or  ego  decomposition  akin  to  demonomania,  or  demoni¬ 
acal  possession.  The  case  is  reported  by  Dr.  Ira  Bar- 
rows,  of  Providence.  The  record  begins  in  the  nine¬ 
teenth  year  of  the  patient’s  age,  and  continues  for  sev¬ 
eral  years.  It  runs  as  follows  : 

“  September  17 ,  1860. — Wild  with  delirium.  Tears 
her  hair,  pillow-cases,  bedclothes,  bath  sheets,  night¬ 
dress,  all  to  pieces.  Her  right  hand  prevents  her  left 
hand,  by  seizing  and  holding  it,  from  tearing  out  her  hair, 
but  she  tears  her  clothes  with  her  left  hand  and  teeth. 

“  29th. — Complains  of  great  pain  in  right  arm,  more 
and  more  intense  when  suddenly  it  falls  down  by  her 
side.  She  looks  at  it  in  amazement.  Thinks  it  belongs 
to  some  one  else ;  positive  it  is  not  hers.  Sees  her  right 
arm  drawn  around  her  spine.  Cut  it,  prick  it,  do  what 
you  please  to  it,  she  takes  no  notice  of  it.  Complains 
of  great  pain  in  the  neck  and  back,  which  she  now  calls 
her  shoulder  and  arm ;  no  process  of  reasoning  can  con¬ 
vince  her  to  the  contrary.  To  the  present  time,  now 
nearly  five  years,  the  hallucination  remains  firm.  She 
believes  her  spine  is  her  right  arm,  and  that  her  right 
arm  is  a  foreign  object  and  a  nuisance.  She  believes  it 
to  be  an  arm  and  a  hand,  but  treats  it  as  if  it  had  in¬ 
telligence,  and  might  keep  away  from  her.  She  bites 
it,  pounds  it,  pricks  it,  and  in  many  ways  seeks  to  drive 

*  Esquirol,  Mental  Maladies. 

f  Proceedings  of  the  American  Society  for  Psychological  Re¬ 
search,  vol.  i. 


286 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  SUGGESTION. 


it  from  her.  She  calls  it 6  Stump,’ ‘  Old  Stump.’  Some¬ 
times  she  is  in  great  excitement  and  tears,  pounding 
Old  Stump.  Says  Stump  has  got  this  or  the  other  that 
belongs  to  her.  The  history  of  September  is  her  daily 
and  nightly  history  till  October  25th. 

“ November  12th. — From  eleven  to  twelve  at  night 
sits  up,  apparently  asleep,  and  writes  with  her  paper 
against  the  wall.  After  she  wakes  seems  to  be  uncon¬ 
scious  of  what  she  has  written. 

“From  November  20th  to  January  1,  1861,  raving 
delirium ;  pulls  her  hair  nearly  all  out  from  the  top  of 
her  head.  The  right  hand  protects  her  against  the  left 
as  much  as  possible. 

“February  1st  to  11th. — Under  the  influence  of 
magnetism  writes  poetry  ;  personates  different  persons, 
mostly  those  who  have  long  since  passed  away.  When 
in  the  magnetic  state,  whatever  she  does  and  says  is  not 
remembered  when  she  comes  out  of  it.  Commences  a 
series  of  drawings  with  her  right  paralyzed  hand,  Old 
Stump.  Also  writes  poetry  with  it.  Whatever  Stump 
writes,  or  draws,  or  does,  she  appears  to  take  no  inter¬ 
est  in ;  says  it  is  none  of  hers,  and  that  she  wants  noth¬ 
ing  to  do  with  Stump  or  Stump’s.  I  have  sat  by  her 
bed  and  engaged  her  in  conversation,  and  drawn  her 
attention  in  various  ways,  while  the  writing  and  draw¬ 
ing  has  been  uninterrupted. 

“March,  1861. — She  became  blind. 

“  January  J,  1862. — Is  still  blind ;  sees  as  well  with 
eyes  closed  as  open  ;  keeps  them  closed  much  of  the  time. 
Draws  in  the  dark  as  well  as  in  the  light.  Writes  poe¬ 
try  chiefly  with  the  right  hand,  and  often  while  it  is  dark. 
The  handwriting  differs  greatly  in  different  pieces. 

“  January  10th. — When  her  delirium  is  at  it  height, 
as  well  as  at  all  other  times,  her  right  hand  is  rational, 


SUBCONSCIOUSNESS  AND  INSANITY. 


287 


asking  and  answering  questions  in  writing ;  giving  di¬ 
rections;  trying  to  prevent  lier  tearing  her  clothes; 
when  she  pulls  out  her  hair  it  seizes  and  holds  her  left 
hand.  When  she  is  asleep  it  carries  on  conversation ; 
writes  poetry ;  never  sleeps ;  acts  the  part  of  a  nurse 
as  far  as  it  can ;  pulls  the  bedclothes  over  the  patient, 
if  it  can  reach  them,  when  uncovered;  raps  on  the 
headboard  to  awaken  her  mother  (who  always  sleeps  in 
the  room)  if  anything  occurs,  as  spasms,  etc. 

“  January ,  1863. — At  night  and  during  her  sleep 
Stump  writes  letters,  6ome  of  them  very  amusing; 
writes  poetry,  some  pieces  original.  Writes  Hasty 
Pudding,  by  Barlow,  in  several  cantos,  which  she  had 
never  read  ;  all  correctly  written,  but  queerly  arranged 
. — e.  g.,  one  line  belonging  in  one  canto  would  be  trans¬ 
posed  with  another  line  in  another  canto.  She  has  no 
knowledge  of  Latin  or  French,  yet  Stump  produces  the 
following  lines : 

“  Sed  terapus  recessit,  and  this  was  all  over, 

Cum  illi  successit,  another  gay  rover ; 

Nam  cum  navigaret  in  his  own  cutter, 

Portentum  apparet,  which  made  them  all  flutter. 

“Et  horridus  anguis  which  they  behold, 

Haud  dubio  sanguis  within  them  ran  cold; 

Tringinta  pedes  his  head  was  upraised, 

Et  corporis  sedes  in  secret  was  placed. 

“  Sic  serpens  manebat,  so  says  the  same  joker, 

Et  sese  ferebat  as  stiff  as  a  poker ; 

Tergum  fricabat  against  the  old  lighthouse, 

Et  sese  liberabat  of  scaly  detritus. 

“  Tunc  plumbo  percussit  thinking  he  hath  him, 

At  serpens  exsiluit  full  thirty  fathoms, 

Exsiluit  mare  with  pain  and  affright, 

Conatus  abnare  as  fast  as  he  might. 


288 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  SUGGESTION. 


“  Neque  ille  secuti  ?  no,  nothing  so  rash, 

Terrore  sunt  muti  he’d  made  such  a  splash; 

Sed  nunc  adierunt  the  place  to  inspect, 

Et  squamas  viderunt,  the  which  they  collect. 

“  Quicumque  non  credat  and  doubtfully  rails, 

Adlocum  accedat,  they’ll  show  him  the  scales ; 

Quas,  sola  trophea,  they  brought  to  the  shore ; 

Et  causa  est  ea,  they  couldn’t  get  more. 

“  Stump  writes  both  asleep  and  awake,  and  the 
writing  goes  on  while  she  is  occupied  with  her  left 
hand  in  other  matters.  Ask  her  what  she  is  writing, 
she  replies,  ‘  I  am  not  writing ;  that  is  Stump  writing. 
I  don’t  know  what  he  is  writing.  I  don’t  trouble  my¬ 
self  with  Stump’s  doings.’  Heads  with  her  book 
upside  down,  and  sometimes  when  covered  with  the 
sheet.  Stump  produces  two  bills  of  fare  in  French. 

“  Upon  this  one  subject  of  her  right  arm  she  is  a 
monomaniac.  Her  right  hand  and  arm  are  not  hers. 
Attempt  to  reason  with  her,  and  she  holds  up  her  left 
arm  and  says  :  6  This  is  my  left  arm.  I  see  and  feel  my 
right  arm  drawn  behind  me.  You  say  this  Stump  is 
my  right  arm.  Then  I  have  three  arms  and  hands.’ 
In  this  arm  the  nerves  of  sensation  are  paralyzed,  but 
the  nerves  of  motion  preserved.  She  has  no  will  to 
move  it.  She  has  no  knowledge  of  its  motion.  This 
arm  appears  to  have  a  separate  intelligence.  When 
she  sleeps,  it  writes  or  converses  by  signs.  It  never 
sleeps  ;  watches  over  her  when  she  sleeps  ;  endeavours 
to  prevent  her  from  injuring  herself  or  her  clothing 
when  she  is  raving.  It  seems  to  possess  an  independ¬ 
ent  life.” 

Prof.  James,  who  is  in  possession  of  the  full  record, 
adds  “that  Old  Stump  used  to  write  to  Miss  W.  in 
the  third  person  as  Anna.” 


SUBCONSCIOUSNESS  AND  INSANITY. 


289 


Instead  of  being  possessed  by  an  evil  spirit,  as  is 
usually  the  rule  in  Catholic  countries,  this  patient  was 
possessed  by  a  good  spirit,  who  took  care  of  the  patient 
and  watched  over  her,  and  who,  like  spirits  in  general, 
claimed  to  be  clairvoyant.  This  good  spirit  was  prob¬ 
ably  a  peculiarly  crystallized  personality  formed  of  the 
sane  remnants  of  the  patient’s  subconscious  self. 

In  the  Journal  of  Nervous  and  Mental  Diseases  *  Dr. 
Irving  C.  Kosse  describes  the  following  interesting 
case  of  triple  personality  : 

“  M.  L.,  age  thirty-five  ;  brasier  ;  single  ;  nativity, 
Connecticut ;  education,  common  school ;  religion,  Do- 
man  Catholic.  No  hereditary  or  atavistic  antecedents 
of  note.  His  habits  from  earliest  manhood  have  been 
of  a  kind  that  it  would  be  charitable  to  designate  sim¬ 
ply  as  irregular.  Alcoholic,  nicotinic,  and  venereal  ex¬ 
cesses  have  been  followed  by  persistent  masturbation 
and  constant  erotic  tendency. 

“  Nothing  unusual  occurred  in  his  life  until  about 
1884,  when  he  got  to  drinking,  became  nervous,  sleep¬ 
less,  and  finally  had  mania  a  potu ,  with  a  series  of  epi¬ 
leptiform  convulsions.  His  physicians  prescribed  more 
whisky  and  a  hypodermic  of  morphine,  which  did  not 
quiet  him  altogether,  and  while  lying  on  the  bed  a 
‘  picture  form  ’  appeared  on  the  wall  and  gradually 
assumed  the  form  of  Lucifer,  whose  voice  issued  forth, 
saying,  ‘Who  has  hold  of  your  blood — God,  or  the 
devil  ?  ’  (the  beginning  of  the  delusional  state  as  near 
as  can  be  ascertained).  Leaping  from  the  bed,  he  ran 
to  a  priest’s  house  for  protection  from  the  Evil  One. 
Subsequently  was  sent  to  a  private  asylum  for  four 
weeks ;  afterward  under  asylum  treatment  on  three 


*  March,  1892. 


290 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  SUGGESTION. 


different  occasions,  about  three  years  in  all ;  finally,  es¬ 
caping  and  getting  drunk,  was  arrested  for  using  pro¬ 
fane  language  on  the  street,  and  spent  four  weeks  in 
jail.  Regaining  his  liberty,  worked  as  porter,  Lucifer 
still  pursuing  him,  but  not  so  troublesome  as  formerly. 
On  speaking  to  a  priest  about  the  delusion,  the  patient 
was  advised  to  stop  drink.  Shortly  after  went  to  New 
York,  where  he  kept  up  his  bad  habits.  At  length  re¬ 
turned  to  his  home  in  Connecticut,  insulted  his  mother, 
sister,  and  a  young  woman  visitor,  owing  to  which 
erotic  conduct  he  was  compelled  to  quit  the  paternal 
roof,  ultimately  bringing  up  in  Boston,  where  he  en¬ 
listed  in  the  Marine  Corps.  This  last  act  was  volun¬ 
tary,  and  not  the  outcome  of  Lucifer’s  instigation  as 
were  the  preceding  acts,  especially  those  of  a  criminal 
or  sinful  nature ;  but  when  asked  by  an  examining 
officer  if  there  had  been  anything  the  matter  with  him 
that  would  tend  to  disqualify  him  for  military  service, 
Lucifer  spoke  up  and  said  ‘No.’  After  enlisting  he 
kept  up  his  bad  habits.  He  was  transferred  to  Wash¬ 
ington,  where  his  erotic  habits  and  eccentric  conduct, 
particularly  his  speaking  aloud  to  himself  and  gesticu¬ 
lating  wildly  while  communing  with  Lucifer,  attracted 
the  attention  of  officers  and  men,  and  led  to  his  being 
sent  to  a  hospital. 

“  M.  L.  speaks  of  himself  as  an  innocent  person 
who  is  controlled  by  a  spirit  whom  he  calls  4  the  young 
man,’  and  who  in  his  turn  is  under  the  influence  of 
Lucifer,  or,  at  any  rate,  is  engaged  in  a  continual  strug¬ 
gle  with  the  latter  for  supremacy  in  controlling  the  ac¬ 
tions  of  L.  The  young  man  abuses  himself  sexually  at 
times,  but  L.  is  not  responsible  for  these  actions.  He 
does  not  see  Lucifer,  but  hears  him  talking  and  roaring 
like  a  lion  when  opposed  and  angered.  Lucifer  tells 


SUBCONSCIOUSNESS  AND  INSANITY. 


291 


him  to  kill  the  writer  or  other  person  finding  out  L.’s 
business,  but  he  resists  that  advice. 

“  The  patient  is  generally  well  conducted,  and  when 
not  assisting  at  work  about  the  ward  will  go  to  a  se¬ 
cluded  place,  where  he  can  be  heard  upbraiding  Lucifer 
in  a  loud  tone  for  attempting  to  control  his  speech  and 
actions  against  his  will,  and  tempting  him  to  do  things 
that  he  knows  to  be  improper.  The  patient  dwells  a 
great  deal  on  the  importance  of  religious  duties,  ear¬ 
nestly  wishes  to  comply  with  the  rules  of  the  Church, 
and  believes  that  Lucifer  can  finally  be  expelled  or 
chased  out  by  a  species  of  exorcism. 

“  Patient’s  memory  is  fair  as  regards  dates,  but  he 
is  indifferent  to  surroundings  and  to  recent  occurrences, 
political  or  other.  Knew  when  Mr.  Cleveland  was 
President ;  don’t  know  who  is  now  and  don’t  care,  his 
only  concern  being  to  get  his  personality  out  of  trouble, 
as  he  feels  that  he  has  to  answer  to  God  for  being  the 
cause  of  them.  For  the  past  six  years  he  has  been  in 
league  with  Lucifer  to  ‘  down  ’  L.,  but  for  the  last  six 
months  he  has  endeavoured  to  give  up  his  dealings 
with  Lucifer  and  to  assist  L.  to  return  to  God.  He,  as 
the  ‘young  man,’  wants  to  become  L.’s  good  angel. 
Formerly  he  was  L.’s  bad  angel  or  evil  counsellor,  ow¬ 
ing  to  some  sinful  act  which  placed  him  in  Lucifer’s 
power.  At  each  attempt  to  emancipate  himself  from 
the  power  of  Lucifer  the  latter  tantalizes  him  in  every 
conceivable  way.  He  says  Lucifer  is  afraid  of  God, 
but  tries  to  bluff  L.  into  the  belief  that  God  does  not 
know  and  see  all  things.  The  patient  keeps  religious 
souvenirs  about  him,  which  displease  Lucifer  and  in¬ 
duce  ‘  kicking  ’  on  his  part.” 

The  phenomena  of  insistent  concepts,  of  impera¬ 
tive  ideas,  of  impulsive  mania,  of  paramnesia,  of  para- 


292 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  SUGGESTION. 


noia  and  demonomania,  can  be  fully  reproduced  in  our 
laboratories.  From  tbe  way  we  induce  the  phenomena 
artificially  we  can  learn  how  they  originate  spontane¬ 
ously.  To  bring  about  insistent  concepts,  irresistible 
impulses,  and  all  kinds  of  changes  of  the  ego,  we  must 
dissociate  the  secondary  subconscious  self  from  the  pri¬ 
mary  controlling  consciousness  ;  we  must  then  inoculate 
the  subconscious  self  with  the  idea,  impulse,  or  specious 
personality,  and  make  a  deep  cleft  between  the  two 
selves  by  enforcing  amnesia,  otherwise  the  suggestion 
will  simply  rise  as  a  memory.  Once,  however,  disag¬ 
gregation  is  enforced,  we  can  easily  induce  all  kinds  of 
insistent  ideas,  imperative  concepts,  all  forms  of  irre¬ 
sistible  impulses,  all  sorts  of  changes  of  personality ; 
and  we  may  assert  that  all  these  forms  of  insanity 
have  at  their  basis  a  disaggregation  of  consciousness ,  a 
dissociation  of  the  primary  and  secondary  subcon¬ 
scious  selves. 


CHAPTEK  XXYI. 


THE  TRAITS  OF  THE  SUBCONSCIOUS  SELF. 

We  are  now  in  a  position  to  characterize  the  under¬ 
ground  self. 

The  subwaking  self  is  stupid;  it  lacks  all  critical 
sense.  A  thing  must  be  told  to  it  plainly  in  all  details, 
and  even  then  it  follows  more  the  letter  than  the  spirit 
of  the  suggestion.  I  remind  the  reader  of  Prof.  W. 
James’s  subject  who  smoked  hut  “  one”  pipe  the  whole 
day,  and  also  of  my  own  subject,  who,  on  being  sug¬ 
gested  not  to  have  any  slight  headache,  next  day  came 
complaining  of  violent  pain.  The  lack  of  critical  sense 
is  well  brought  out  in  the  following  experiment : 

Mr.  Y.  F.  is  hypnotized  and  is  suggested  to  be  Sam 
Smith,  a  bootblack,  ten  years  of  age. 

Exp.  What  is  your  name  ? 

Sub.  Sam  Smith. 

Exp.  Your  occupation  ? 

Sub.  A  bootblack. 

Exp.  How  old  are  you  ? 

Sub.  Ten  years. 

Exp.  What  is  your  father’s  name  ? 

Sub.  (Gives  his  father’s  correct  name.) 

Exp.  How  is  it  that  your  name  is  Sam  Smith  and 
your  father’s  is  different  ? 

Sub.  I  do  not  know. 


293 


294 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  SUGGESTION. 


On  another  occasion  I  made  the  following  experi¬ 
ment  on  the  same  subject : 

Exp.  Are  you  alive  ? 

Sub.  Yes. 

Exp.  Mo,  you  are  dead. 

Sub.  Yes,  I  think  I  am  dead. 

Exp.  How  long  is  it  since  you  died  ? 

Sub.  A  few  days  ago. 

Exp.  From  what  disease  ? 

Sub.  I  do  not  know ;  just  died. 

Exp.  Can  you  hear  and  feel  me  ? 

Sub.  Yes. 

Exp.  But  how  can  you  feel  if  you  are  dead  ? 

Sub.  I  do  not  know. 

The  subwaking  self  is  ready  to  take  any  sugges¬ 
tion,  no  matter  how  ridiculous  or  painful  the  sugges¬ 
tion  is. 

Mr.  Y.  F.  is  hypnotized  and  is  suggested  that  on 
awakening  he  should  light  the  gas  and  bow  to  the  light 
whenever  the  door  is  opened.  On  awakening  he  at 
once  rushes  to  light  the  gas,  and  is  at  last  satisfied  when 
he  sees  the  flame. 

Exp.  What  did  you  light  the  gas  for  ? 

Sub.  I  do  not  know,  unless  I  wanted  to  fight  my 
pipe. 

Exp.  But  you  have  no  pipe. 

Sub.  That  is  true,  but  then  I  can  fight  a  cigarette. 
(Takes  a  cigarette  from  my  table,  fights  it,  and  begins 
to  puff.) 

The  reason  here  given  by  the  subject  is  extremely 
stupid,  because  he  could  far  easier  fight  directly  the 
cigarette  with  the  match,  and,  besides,  the  gas  jet  was 
so  high  up  that  he  had  to  give  a  good  jump  to  reach  it. 

I  then  opened  the  door.  The  subject  bowed  to  the 


THE  TRAITS  OF  THE  SUBCONSCIOUS  SELF.  295 


light.  I  opened  the  door  again;  again  the  subject 
bowed  to  the  gas  jet.  Each  opening  of  the  door  was 
followed  by  a  polite  bow  to  the  fire. 

j Exp.  "Why  do  you  bow  to  the  fire  ? 

Sub.  I  do  not  know.  I  suppose  I  am  practising. 
I  do  not  know.  I  feel  like  a  chump  while  I  am 
doing  it. 

Exp.  Why  are  you  doing  it  ?  Can  you  give  any 
reason  ? 

Sub.  None,  except  that  I  want  to. 

Exp.  Have  you  any  desire  to  do  it  ? 

Sub.  Yes,  I  think  it  is  a  nice  thing  to  do. 

I  take  the  hand  of  the  subject,  put  it  on  the  table, 
and  tell  the  hypnotic  self  that  the  pencil  is  a  lighted 
candle,  the  flames  issuing  from  the  point.  When  I 
now  touch  any  part  of  the  subject’s  body  with  the 
point  of  the  pencil  the  self  screams  from  great  pain.  I 
tell  the  self,  “  You  have  a  toothache,”  and  he  does  get 
the  ache. 

The  subwaking  self  is  extremely  credulous ;  it  lacks 
all  sense  of  the  true  and  rational.  “  Two  and  two  make 
five.”  “  Yes.”  Anything  is  accepted  if  sufficiently 
emphasized  by  the  hypnotizer.  The  suggestibility  and 
imitativeness  of  the  subwaking  self  was  discussed  by 
me  at  great  length.  What  I  should  like  to  point  out 
here  is  the  extreme  servility  and  cowardliness  of  that 
self.  Show  hesitation,  and  it  will  show  fight;  com¬ 
mand  authoritatively,  and  it  will  obey  slavishly.* 

The  sub  waking  self  is  devoid  of  all  morality;  it 
will  steal  without  the  least  scruple ;  it  will  poison ;  it 
will  stab ;  it  will  assassinate  its  best  friends  without  the 


*  This  is  well  illustrated  in  the  experiments  on  my  subject  A. 
Fingold,  see  Chapter  XXIV. 

20 


296 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  SUGGESTION. 


least  scruple.  When  completely  cut  off  from  the  wak¬ 
ing  person  it  is  precluded  from  conscience.* 

The  subwaking  self  dresses  to  fashion,  gossips  in 
company,  runs  riot  in  business  panics,  revels  in  the 
crowd,  storms  in  the  mob,  and  prays  in  the  camp  meet¬ 
ing.  Its  senses  are  acute,  but  its  sense  is  nil.  Asso¬ 
ciation  by  contiguity,  the  mental  mechanism  of  the 
brute,  is  the  only  one  that  it  possesses. 

The  subwaking  self  lacks  all  personality  and  indi¬ 
viduality;  it  is  absolutely  servile;  it  works  according 
to  no  maxims ;  it  has  no  moral  law,  no  law  at  all.  To 
be  a  law  unto  one’s  self,  the  chief  and  essential  charac¬ 
teristic  of  personality,  is  just  the  very  trait  the  sub  wak¬ 
ing  self  so  glaringly  lacks.  The  subwaking  self  has  no 
will  ;  it  is  blown  hither  and  thither  by  all  sorts  of  in¬ 
coming  suggestions.  It  is  essentially  a  brutal  self. 

The  primary  self  alone  possesses  true  personality, 
will,  and  self-control.  The  primary  self  alone  is  a  law 
unto  itself — a  person  having  the  power  to  investigate 
his  own  nature,  to  discover  faults,  to  create  ideals,  to 
strive  after  them,  to  struggle  for  them,  and  by  con¬ 
tinuous,  strenuous  efforts  of  will  to  attain  higher  and 
higher  stages  of  personality. 


Zwei  Seelen  wohnen,  ach !  in  meiner  Brust, 
Die  eine  will  sich  von  der  andern  trennen  : 

Die  eine  halt,  in  derber  Liebeslust, 

Sich  an  die  Welt,  mit  klammernden  Organen  ; 
Die  andre  hebt  gewaltsam  sich  von  Dust 
Zu  den  Gefilden  hoher  Ahnen. — Faust. 


*  See  an  interesting  article  by  Liebault  in  the  Zeitschrift  fUr 
Hypnotismus  for  April  and  May,  1895. 


PART  in. 


SOCIETY. 


CHAPTER  XXYII. 

SOCIAL  SUGGESTIBILITY. 

Suggestibility  is  a  fundamental  attribute  of  man’s 
nature.  We  must  therefore  expect  that  man,  in  his 
social  capacity,  will  display  this  general  property ;  and 
so  do  we  actually  find  the  case  to  be.  What  is  required 
is  only  the  condition  to  bring  about  a  disaggregation  in 
the  social  consciousness.  This  disaggregation  may 
either  be  fleeting,  unstable — then  the  type  of  suggesti¬ 
bility  is  that  of  the  normal  one ;  or  it  may  become  stable 
— then  the  suggestibility  is  of  the  abnormal  type.  The 
one  is  the  suggestibility  of  the  crowd ,  the  other  that  of 
the  mob.  In  the  mob  direct  suggestion  is  effective,  in 
the  crowd  indirect  suggestion.  The  clever  stump  orator, 
the  politician,  the  preacher,  fix  the  attention  of  their  lis¬ 
teners  on  themselves,  interesting  them  in  the  “  subject.” 
They  as  a  rule  distract  the  attention  of  the  crowd  by 
their  stories,  frequently  giving  the  suggestion  in  some 
indirect  and  striking  way,  winding  up  the  long  yarn  by 
a  climax  requiring  the  immediate  execution  of  the  sug¬ 
gested  act.  Out  of  the  infinite  number  of  cases,  I  take 
the  first  that  comes  to  my  hand  : 

_  297 


298 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  SUGGESTION. 


In  August  11,  1895,  at  Old  Orchard,  Me.,  a  camp 
meeting  was  held.  The  purpose  was  to  raise  a  collec¬ 
tion  for  the  evangelization  of  the  world.  The  preacher 
gave  his  suggestions  in  the  following  way  : 

i(  The  most  impressive  memory  I  have  of  foreign 
lands  is  the  crowds,  the  billows  of  lost  humanity  dash¬ 
ing  ceaselessly  on  the  shores  of  eternity.  .  .  .  How  des- , 
perate  and  unloved  they  are — no  joy,  no  spring,  no 
song  in  their  religion !  I  once  heard  a  Chinaman  tell 
why  he  was  a  Christian.  It  seemed  to  him  that  he  was 
down  in  a  deep  pit,  with  no  means  to  get  out.  [Story.] 
Have  you  wept  on  a  lost  world  as  Jesus  wept  ?  If  not, 
woe  unto  you.  Your  religion  is  but  a  dream  and  a 
fancy.  We  find  Christ  testing  his  disciples.  Shall  he 
make  them  his  partners?  Beloved,  he  is  testing  you 
to-day.  [Indirect  suggestion.]  He  could  convert  one 
thousand  millionaires,  but  he  is  giving  us  a  chance. 
[Suggestion  more  direct  than  before.]  Have  we  faith 
enough  ?  [A  discourse  on  faith  follows  here.]  God 
can  not  bring  about  great  things  without  faith.  I  be¬ 
lieve  the  coming  of  Jesus  will  be  brought  about  by  one 
who  believes  strongly  in  it.  .  .  .  Beloved,  if  you  are 
going  to  give  grandly  for  God  you  have  got  faith. 
[The  suggestion  is  still  more  direct.]  The  lad  with 
the  five  loaves  and  the  two  small  fishes  [story] — when 
it  was  over  the  little  fellow  did  not  lose  his  buns ;  there 
were  twelve  baskets  over.  .  .  .  Oh,  beloved,  how  it 
will  come  back !  .  .  .  Some  day  the  King  of  kings  will 
call  you  and  give  you  a  kingdom  of  glory,  and  just  for 
trusting  him  a  little !  What  you  give  to-day  is  a  great 
investment.  .  .  .  Some  day  God  will  let  us  know  how 
much  better  he  can  invest  our  treasures  than  we  our¬ 
selves.”  The  suggestion  was  effective.  Money  poured 
in  from  all  sides,  contributions  ran  from  hundreds 


SOCIAL  SUGGESTIBILITY. 


299 


into  thousands,  into  tens  of  thousands.  The  crowd 
contributed  as  much  as  seventy  thousand  dollars. 

A  disaggregation  of  consciousness  is  easily  effected 
in  the  crowd.  Some  of  the  conditions  of  suggestibility 
work  in  the  crowd  with  great  power  and  on  a  large 
scale.  The  social  psychical  scalpels  are  big,  powerful ; 
their  edges  are  extremely  keen,  and  they  cut  sure  and 
deep.  If  anything  gives  us  a  strong  sense  of  our  indi¬ 
viduality,  it  is  surely  our  voluntary  movements.  We 
may  say  that  the  individual  self  grows  and  expands 
with  the  increase  of  variety  and  intensity  of  its  vol¬ 
untary  activity;  and  conversely,  the  life  of  the  indi¬ 
vidual  self  sinks,  shrinks  with  the  decrease  of  variety 
and  intensity  of  voluntary  movements.  We  find,  ac¬ 
cordingly,  that  the  condition  of  limitation  of  vol¬ 
untary  movements  is  of  great  importance  in  sugges¬ 
tibility  in  general,  and  this  condition  is  of  the  more 
importance  since  it,  in  fact,  can  bring  about  a  narrow¬ 
ing  down  of  the  field  of  consciousness  with  the  con¬ 
ditions  consequent  on  that  contraction — all  favour¬ 
able  to  suggestibility.  Now  nowhere  else,  except 
perhaps  in  solitary  confinement,  are  the  voluntary 
movements  of  men  so  limited  as  they  are  in  the  crowd  ; 
and  the  larger  the  crowd  is  the  greater  is  this  limita¬ 
tion,  the  lower  sinks  the  individual  self.  Intensity  of 
personality  is  in  inverse  proportion  to  the  number  of 
aggregated  men .  This  law  holds  true  not  only  in  the 
case  of  crowds,  but  also  in  the  case  of  highly  organized 
masses.  Large,  massive  social  organisms  produce,  as  a 
rule,  very  small  persons.  Great  men  are  not  to  be 
found  in  ancient  Egypt,  Babylon,  Assyria,  Persia,  but 
rather  in  the  diminutive  communities  of  ancient  Greece 
and  Judea. 

This  condition  of  limitation  of  voluntary  move- 


300 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  SUGGESTION. 


ments  is  one  of  the  prime  conditions  that  help  to  bring 
about  a  deep,  a  more  or  less  lasting  dissociation  in 
the  consciousness  of  the  crowd — the  crowd  passes  into 
the  mob-state.  A  large  gathering  on  account  of  the 
cramping  of  voluntary  movements  easily  falls  into  a 
state  of  abnormal  suggestibility,  and  is  easily  moved 
by  a  ringleader  or  hero.  Large  assemblies  carry  within 
themselves  the  germs  of  the  possible  mob.  The  crowd 
contains  within  itself  all  the  elements  and  conditions 
favourable  to  a  disaggregation  of  consciousness.  What 
is  required  is  only  that  an  interesting  object,  or  that 
some  sudden  violent  impressions  should  strongly  fix 
the  attention  of  the  crowd,  and  plunge  it  into  that 
state  in  which  the  waking  personality  is  shorn  of  its 
dignity  and  power,  and  the  naked  subwaking  self  alone 
remains  face  to  face  with  the  external  environment. 

Besides  limitation  of  voluntary  movements  and  con¬ 
traction  of  the  field  of  consciousness,  there  are  also 
present  in  the  crowd,  the  matrix  of  the  mob,  the  con¬ 
ditions  of  monotony  and  inhibition.  When  the  preach¬ 
er,  the  politician,  the  stump  orator,  the  ringleader,  the 
hero,  gains  the  ear  of  the  crowd,  an  ominous  silence 
sets  in,  a  silence  frequently  characterized  as  “  awful.” 
The  crowd  is  in  a  state  of  overstrained  expectation; 
with  suspended  breath  it  watches  the  hero  or  the  inter¬ 
esting,  all-absorbing  object.  Disturbing  impressions 
are  excluded,  put  down,  driven  away  by  main  force. 
So  great  is  the  silence  induced  in  the  fascinated  crowd, 
that  very  frequently  the  buzzing  of  a  fly,  or  even  the 
drop  of  a  pin,  can  be  distinctly  heard.  All  interfering 
impressions  and  ideas  are  inhibited.  The  crowd  is  en¬ 
tranced,  and  rapidly  merges  into  the  mob-state. 

The  great  novelist  Count  Tolstoy  gives  the  follow¬ 
ing  characteristic  description  of  a  crowd  passing  into 


SOCIAL  SUGGESTIBILITY. 


301 


the  entranced  condition  of  the  mob :  “  The  crowd  re¬ 
mained  silent,  and  pressed  on  one  another  closer  and 
closer.  To  bear  the  pressure  of  one  another,  to  breathe 
in  this  stifling,  contagious  atmosphere,  not  to  have  the 
power  to  stir,  and  to  expect  something  unknown,  in¬ 
comprehensible,  and  terrible,  became  intolerable.  Those 
who  were  in  the  front,  who  saw  and  heard  everything 
that  took  place,  all  those  stood  with  eyes  full  of  fright, 
widely  dilated,  with  open  mouths ;  and  straining  their 
whole  strength,  they  kept  on  their  backs  the  pressure 
of  those  behind  them.”  * 

The  following  concrete  cases  taken  from  American 
life  will  perhaps  show  clearly  the  factors  that  work  in 
the  entrancement  of  the  crowd,  and  will  also  disclose 
the  disaggregation  of  consciousness  effected  in  the  pop¬ 
ular  mind. 

One  of  the  American  newspapers  gives  the  follow¬ 
ing  sensational  but  interesting  account  of  feminine 
crowds  entranced  by  Paderewski :  “  There  is  a  chatter, 
a  rustling  of  programmes,  a  waving  of  fans,  a  nodding 
of  feathers,  a  general  air  of  expectancy,  and  the  lights 
are  lowered.  A  hush.  All  eyes  are  turned  to  a  small 
door  leading  on  to  the  stage ;  it  is  opened.  Paderew¬ 
ski  enters.  ...  A  storm  of  applause  greets  him,  .  .  . 
but  after  it  comes  a  tremulous  hush  and  a  prolonged 
sigh,  .  .  .  created  by  the  long,  deep  inhalation  of  up¬ 
ward  of  three  thousand  women.  .  .  .  Paderewski  is  at 
the  piano.  .  .  .  Thousands  of  eyes  watch  every  common¬ 
place  movement  [of  his]  through  opera  glasses  with  an 
intensity  painful  to  observe.  He  the  idol,  they  the 
idolators.  .  .  .  Toward  the  end  of  the  performance 
the  most  decorous  women  seem  to  abandon  themselves 


*  Yoina  i  Mir.  (War  and  Peace.) 


302 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  SUGGESTION. 


to  the  influence.  .  .  .  There  are  sighs,  sobs,  the  tight 
clinching  of  the  palms,  the  bowing  of  the  head.  Fer¬ 
vid  exclamations :  ‘  He  is  my  master  !  ’  are  heard  in 
the  feminine  mob.”  In  this  highly  sensational  report 
the  paper  unconsciously  describes  all  the  conditions  re 
quisite  to  effect  a  disaggregation  of  consciousness. 

The  conditions  of  crowd  entran  cement  are  clearly 
revealed  in  the  following  case  : 

In  1895  a  “  modern  Messiah,”  a  “  Man-Christ  ”  by 
name  of  Francis  Schlatter,  appeared  in  this  country. 
He  worked  miracles.  People  believed  in  his  divine, 
supernatural  power.  Men,  women,  and  children  flocked 
to  him  from  all  sides,  and  Schlatter  did  cure  many  of 
them  of  “  the  ills  of  the  flesh  ”  by  “  mere  laying  on  of 
hands,”  as  the  hypnotizer  treats  the  entranced  subject 
or  the  one  he  intends  to  entrance.  A  disaggrega¬ 
tion  of  consciousness  was  easily  effected  in  the  manipu¬ 
lated  crowd  of  believers,  the  subwaking  reflex  self 
emerged,  and  Schlatter’s  suggestions  took  effect.  A 
reporter  describes  the  scene  as  follows : 

“Men,  women,  and  children  with  the  imprint  of 
mental  illness  upon  their  faces  were  on  all  sides.  .  .  . 
Every  moment  the  crowd  was  augmented,  .  .  .  and 
soon  the  place  was  a  sea  of  heads  as  far  as  the  eye  could 
see.  [Limitation  of  voluntary  movements.]  .  .  .  Then 
a  sudden  movement  went  through  the  assemblage,  and 
even  the  faintest  whisper  was  hushed.  [Monotony,  in¬ 
hibition.]  .  .  .  Schlatter  had  come.”  [Concentration 
of  attention].  The  reporter,  as  the  individual  of  the 
crowd,  fell  into  the  trance  condition  characteristic  of 
the  person  in  the  mob.  “As  I  approached  him,” 
writes  the  reporter,  “  I  became  possessed  of  a  certain 
supernatural  fear ,  which  it  was  difficult  to  analyze. 
My  faith  in  the  man  grew  in  spite  of  my  reason 


SOCIAL  SUGGESTIBILITY. 


303 


The  waking,  controlling,  thinking,  reasoning  self  began 
to  waver,  to  lose  its  power,  and  the  reflex,  snbwaking 
consciousness  began  to  assert  itself.  “  As  he  released 
my  hands  my  soul  acknowledged  some  power  in  this 
man  that  my  mind  and  my  brain  (?)  seemed  to  fight 
against.  When  he  unclasped  my  hands  I  felt  as 
though  I  could  kneel  at  his  feet  and  call  him  master 

The  suggestion  given  to  the  entranced  crowd  by  the 
“  master  ”  spreads  like  wildfire.  The  given  suggestion 
reverberates  from  individual  to  individual,  gathers 
strength,  and  becomes  so  overwhelming  as  to  drive  the 
crowd  into  a  fury  of  activity,  into  a  frenzy  of  excite¬ 
ment.  As  the  suggestions  are  taken  by  the  mob 
and  executed  the  wave  of  excitement  rises  higher  and 
higher.  Each  fulfilled  suggestion  increases  the  emo¬ 
tion  of  the  mob  in  volume  and  intensity.  Each  new 
attack  is  followed  by  a  more  violent  paroxysm  of  furious 
demoniac  frenzy.  The  mob  is  like  an  avalanche :  the 
more  it  rolls  the  more  menacing  and  dangerous  it  grows. 
The  suggestion  given  by  the  hero,  by  the  ringleader, 
by  the  master  of  the  moment,  is  taken  up  by  the  crowd 
and  is  reflected  and  reverberated  from  man  to  man, 
until  every  soul  is  dizzied  and  every  person  is  stunned. 
In  the  entranced  crowd,  in  the  mob ;  every  one  influ¬ 
ences  and  is  influenced  in  his  turn  ;  every  one  suggests 
and  is  suggested  to,  and  the  surging  billow  of  sug¬ 
gestion  swells  and  rises  until  it  reaches  a  formidable 
height. 

Suppose  that  the  number  of  individuals  in  the  crowd 
Is  1,000,  that  the  energy  of  the  suggested  idea  in  the 
“  master  ”  himself  be  represented  by  50,  and  that  only 
one  half  of  it  can  be  awakened  in  others ;  then  the 
hero  awakens  an  energy  of  25  in  every  individual,  who 
again  in  his  or  her  turn  awakens  in  every  one  an 


304 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  SUGGESTION. 


energy  of  12*5.  The  total  energy  aroused  by  the  hero 
is  equal  to  25  X  1,000  =  25,000.  The  total  energy  of 
suggestion  awakened  by  each  individual  in  the  crowd  is 
equal  to  12*5  X  1,000,  or  12,500  (the  hero  being  in¬ 
cluded,  as  he  is,  after  all,  but  a  part  of  the  crowd). 
Since  the  number  of  individuals  in  the  crowd  is  1,000, 
we  have  the  energy  rising  to  as  much  as  12,500  X  1,000; 
adding  to  it  the  25,000  produced  by  the  ringleader,  we 
have  the  total  energy  of  suggestion  amounting  to  12,- 
525,000 !  * 

The  mob  energy  grows  faster  than  the  increase  of 
numbers.  The  mob  spirit  grows  and  expands  with 
each  fresh  human  increment.  Like  a  cannibal  it  feeds 
on  human  beings.  In  my  article  A  Study  of  the  Mob  f 
I  point  out  that  the  mob  has  a  self  of  its  own ;  that  the 
personal  self  is  suppressed,  swallowed  up  by  it,  so  much 
so  that  when  the  latter  comes  once  more  to  the  light  of 
day  it  is  frequently  horrified  at  the  work,  the  crime, 
the  mob  self  had  committed ;  and  that  once  the  mob 
self  is  generated,  or,  truer  to  say,  brought  to  the  surface, 
it  possesses  a  strong  attractive  power  and  a  great  capa¬ 
city  of  assimilation.  It  attracts  fresh  individuals,  breaks 
down  their  personal  life,  and  quickly  assimilates  them ; 
it  effects  in  them  a  disaggregation  of  consciousness  and 
assimilates  the  subwaking  selves.  Out  of  the  subwak¬ 
ing  selves  the  mob-self  springs  into  being.  The  assimi¬ 
lated  individual  expresses  nothing  but  the  energy  sug¬ 
gestion,  the  will  of  the  entranced  crowd;  he  enters 
fully  into  the  spirit  of  the  mob.  This  can  be  well 
illustrated  by  a  curious  incident  describing  the  riots  of 
the  military  colonists  in  Russia  in  1831,  taken  from  the 
memoirs  of  Panaev : 


*  See  Appendix  I. 


f  Atlantic  Monthly,  February,  1895. 


SOCIAL  SUGGESTIBILITY. 


305 


“While  Sokolov  was  fighting  hard  for  his  life  I 
saw  a  corporal  lying  on  the  piazza  and  crying  bitterly. 
On  my  question,  4  Why  do  you  cry  ?  ’  he  pointed  in  the 
direction  of  the  mob  and  exclaimed,  4  Oh,  they  do  not 
kill  a  commander,  but  a  father  !  ’  I  told  him  that  in¬ 
stead  of  it  be  should  rather  go  to  Sokolov’s  aid.  He 
rose  at  once  and  ran  to  the  help  of  his  commander.  A 
little  later  when  I  came  with  a  few  soldiers  to  Sokolov’s 
help,  I  found  the  same  corporal  striking  Sokolov  with 
a  club.  4  Wretch,  what  are  you  doing  ?  Have  you  not 
told  me  he  was  to  you  like  a  father  V  To  which  he 
answered  :  4  It  is  such  a  time,  your  honor ;  all  the  peo¬ 
ple  strike  him  ;  why  should  I  keep  quiet  ?  ’  ” 

To  take  another  interesting  example :  During  the 
Russian  anti- J ewish  riots  in  1881  the  city  of  Berditchev, 
consisting  mainly  of  Jewish  inhabitants,  suffered  from 
Jewish  mobs.  One  dav  a  Jewish  mob  of  about  fifteen 

9s 

thousand  men,  armed  with  clubs,  butchers’  knives,  and 
revolvers,  marched  through  the  streets  to  the  railway 
station  to  meet  the  Katzapi.*  To  the  surprise  of  intel¬ 
ligent  observers,  many  Christians  were  found  to  partici¬ 
pate  in  this  J  ewish  mob. 

An  interesting  case  of  this  kind  is  brought  by  the 
Rev.  H.  C.  Fish  in  his  Handbook  of  Revivals : 

44  While  a  revival  was  in  progress  in  a  certain  vil¬ 
lage  a  profane  tavern  keeper  swore  he  would  never  be 
found  among  the  fools  who  were  running  to  the  meet¬ 
ings.  On  hearing,  however,  of  the  pleasing  mode  of 
singing  his  curiosity  was  excited,  and  he  said  he  did  not 
know  but  he  might  go  and  hear  the  singing,  but  with 
an  imprecation  that  he  would  never  hear  a  word  of  the 


*  A  Malo-Russian  term  for  Veliko-Russians.  In  all  anti- Jew¬ 
ish  riots  Veliko-Russians  were  the  ringleaders. 


306 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  SUGGESTION. 


sermon.  As  soon  as  the  hymn  before  the  sermon  was 
sung  he  leaned  forward  and  secured  both  ears  against 
the  sermon  with  his  forefingers.  Happening  to  with¬ 
draw  one  of  his  forefingers,  the  words,  4  He  that  hath 
ears  to  hear  let  him  hear,’  pronounced  with  great  so¬ 
lemnity,  entered  the  ear  that  was  open  and  struck  him 
with  irresistible  force.  He  kept  his  hand  from  return¬ 
ing  to  the  ear,  and,  feeling  an  impression  he  had  never 
known  before,  presently  withdrew  the  other  finger  and 
hearkened  with  deep  attention  to  the  discourse  which 
followed.”  The  tavern  keeper  was  fascinated,  drawn 
into  the  mob  of  true  believers,  was  converted,  and, 
in  the  words  of  the  Rev.  H.  C.  Fish,  44  became  truly 
pious.” 

The  power  of  suggestion  possessed  by  the  revival 
meeting  is  well  brought  out  in  another  case  related  by 
the  Rev.  H.  C.  Fish :  * 

44  An  actress  in  one  of  the  English  provincial  thea¬ 
tres  was  one  day  passing  through  the  streets  of  the 
town  when  her  attention  was  attracted  by  the  sound  of 
voices.  Curiosity  prompted  her  to  look  in  at  an  open 
door.  It  was  a  social  (revival)  meeting,  and  at  the 
moment  of  her  observation  they  were  singing : 

Depth  of  mercy  !  can  there  be 

Mercy  still  reserved  for  me  ? 

She  stood  motionless  during  a  prayer  which  was 
offered.  .  .  .  The  words  of  the  hymn  followed  her. 
.  .  .  The  manager  of  the  theatre  called  upon  her  one 
morning  and  requested  her  to  sustain  the  principal 
character  in  a  new  play  which  was  to  be  performed  the 
next  week.  .  .  .  She  promised  to  appear.  The  char- 


*  Handbook  of  Revivals. 


SOCIAL  SUGGESTIBILITY. 


307 


acter  she  assumed  required  her  on  her  first  entrance  to 
sing  a  song,  and  when  the  curtain  was  drawn  up  the 
orchestra  immediately  began  the  accompaniment.  But 
she  stood  as  if  lost  in  thought  (she  seemed  to  have  fallen 
into  a  trance),  and  as  one  forgetting  all  around  her  and 
her  own  situation.  The  music  ceased,  but  she  did  not 
sing,  and,  supposing  her  to  be  overcome  by  embarrass¬ 
ment,  the  band  again  commenced.  A  second  time  they 
paused  for  her  to  begin,  but  still  she  did  not  open  her 
lips.  A  third  time  the  air  was  played,  and  then  with 
clasped  hand  and  eyes  suffused  with  tears  she  sang  not 
the  words  of  the  song,”  but  the  verses  suggested  to  her 
at  the  revival  meeting  : 

Depth  of  mercy  !  can  there  be 

Mercy  still  reserved  for  me  ? 

“  The  performance,”  the  Rev.  H.  C.  Fish  naively 
adds,  “was  suddenly  ended.” 

The  extreme  impulsiveness  of  the  mob  self  is  noto¬ 
rious.  No  sooner  is  a  suggestion  accepted,  no  matter 
how  criminal,  how  inhuman  it  might  be,  than  it  is  im¬ 
mediately  realized,  unless  another  suggestion  more  in 
accord  with  the  general  nature  of  suggestions  in  which 
the  mob  self  was  trained,  interferes  and  deflects  the 
energy  of  the  mob  in  another  direction.  The  follow¬ 
ing  interesting  case  will  perhaps  best  illustrate  my 
meaning : 

On  February  26,  1896,  at  Wichita  Falls,  Texas,  a 
mob  of  several  thousand  men  attacked  the  jail  where 
two  bank  robbers  were  confined.  The  mob  battered 
the  jail  doors  and  forcibly  took  possession  of  the  two 
prisoners.  The  two  men  were  taken  to  the  bank 
which  they  attempted  to  rob  the  day  before.  An  im¬ 
provised  scaffold  was  erected.  The  first  impulse  of  the 


308 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  SUGGESTION. 


mob  was  to  burn  the  prisoners.  Roasting  was  the 
programme.  This  inquisitorial  mode  of  execution 
“  without  shedding  human  blood  ”  was  by  suggestion 
changed  to  hanging,  the  way  of  execution  commonly 
in  use  in  this  country  to  inflict  capital  punishment, 
the  way  of  murder  common  to  all  American  lynch¬ 
ing  mobs. 

The  consciousness  of  the  mob  is  reflex  in  its  nature. 
In  the  entranced  crowd,  in  the  mob,  social  conscious¬ 
ness  is  disaggregated,  thus  exposing  to  the  direct  influ¬ 
ence  of  the  environment  the  reflex  consciousness  of  the 
social  subwaking  self.  The  subwaking  mob  self  slum¬ 
bers  within  the  bosom  of  society. 


\ 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

SOCIETY  AND  EPIDEMICS. 

When  animals,  on  account  of  the  great  dangers  that 
threaten  them,  begin  to  rove  about  in  groups,  in  com¬ 
panies,  in  herds,  and  thus  become  social,  such  animals, 
on  pain  of  extinction,  must  vary  in  the  direction  of  sug¬ 
gestibility  ;  they  must  become  more  and  more  suscep¬ 
tible  to  the  emotional  expression  of  their  comrades,  and 
reproduce  it  instantaneously  at  the  first  impression. 
When  danger  is  drawing  near,  and  one  of  the  herd  de¬ 
tects  it  and  gives  vent  to  his  muscular  expression  of 
fear,  attempting  to  escape,  those  of  his  comrades  who 
are  most  susceptible  reproduce  the  movements,  experi¬ 
ence  the  same  emotions  that  agitate  their  companion, 
and  are  thus  alone  able  to  survive  in  the  struggle  for 
existence.  A  delicate  susceptibility  to  the  movements 
of  his  fellows  is  a  question  of  life  and  death  to  the  in¬ 
dividual  in  the  herd.  Suggestibility  is  of  vital  impor¬ 
tance  to  the  group,  to  society,  for  it  is  the  only  way  of 
rapid  communication  social  brutes  can  possibly  possess. 
^Natural  selection  seizes  on  this  variation  and  develops 
it  to  its  highest  degree.  Individuals  having  a  more 
delicate  susceptibility  to  suggestions  survive,  and  leave 
a  greater  progeny  which  more  or  less  inherit  the  char¬ 
acteristics  of  their  parents.  In  the  new  generation, 
again,  natural  selection  resumes  its  merciless  work,  mak- 

309 


310 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  SUGGESTION. 


ing  the  useful  trait  of  suggestibility  still  more  promi¬ 
nent,  and  the  sifting  process  goes  on  thus  for  genera¬ 
tions,  endlessly.  A  highly  developed  suggestibility,  an 
extreme,  keen  susceptibility  to  the  sensori-motor  sug¬ 
gestions,  coming  from  its  companions,  and  immediately 
realizing  those  suggestions  by  passing  through  the  mo¬ 
tor  processes  it  witnesses,  is  the  only  way  by  which  the 
social  brute  can  become  conscious  of  the  emotions  that 
agitate  its  fellows.  The  sentinel  posted  by  the  wasps 
becomes  agitated  at  the  sight  of  danger,  flies  into  the 
interior  of  the  nest  buzzing  violently,  the  whole  nestful 
of  wasps  raises  a  buzzing,  and  is  thus  put  into  the  same 
state  of  emotion  which  the  sentinel  experiences. 

Suggestibility  is  the  cement  of  the  herd,  the  very 
soul  of  the  primitive  social  group.  A  herd  of  sheep 
stands  packed  close  together,  looking  abstractedly,  stu¬ 
pidly,  into  vacant  space.  Frighten  one  of  them  ;  if  the 
animal  begins  to  run,  frantic  with  terror,  a  stampede 
ensues.  Each  sheep  passes  through  the  movements  of 
its  neighbour.  The  herd  acts  like  one  body  animated 
by  one  soul.  Social  life  presupposes  suggestion.  No 
society  without  suggestibility.  Man  is  a  social  animal, 
no  doubt ;  but  he  is  social  because  he  is  suggestible. 
Suggestibility,  however,  requires  disaggregation  of  con¬ 
sciousness  ;  hence,  society  presupposes  a  cleavage  of  the 
mind,  it  presupposes  a  plane  of  cleavage  between  the 
differentiated  individuality  and  the  undifferentiated  re¬ 
flex  consciousness,  the  indifferent  subwaking  self.  /So¬ 
ciety  and  mental  epidemics  are  intimately  related  ;  for 
the  social  gregarious  self  is  the  suggestible  subconsciates 
self 

The  very  organization  of  society  keeps  up  the  disag¬ 
gregation  of  consciousness.  The  rules,  the  customs,  the 
laws  of  society  are  categorical,  imperative,  absolute. 


SOCIETY  AND  EPIDEMICS. 


311 


One  must  obey  them  on  pain  of  death.  Blind  obedi¬ 
ence  is  a  social  virtue.*  But  blind  obedience  is  the 
very  essence  of  suggestibility,  the  constitution  of  the 
disaggregated  subwaking  self.  Society  by  its  nature, 
by  its  organization,  tends  to  run  riot  in  mobs,  manias, 
crazes,  and  all  kinds  of  mental  epidemics. 

With  the  development  of  society  the  economical, 
political,  and  religious  institutions  become  more  and 
more  differentiated ;  their  rules,  laws,  by-laws,  and  regu¬ 
lations  become  more  and  more  detailed,  and  tend  to 
cramp  the  individual,  to  limit,  to  constrain  his  volun¬ 
tary  movements,  to  contract  his  field  of  consciousness, 
to  inhibit  all  extraneous  ideas — in  short,  to  create  con¬ 
ditions  requisite  for  a  disaggregation  of  consciousness. 
If,  now,  something  striking  fixes  the  attention  of  the 
public — a  brilliant  campaign,  a  glittering  holy  image, 
or  a  bright  “  silver  dollar  ” — the  sub  waking  social  self, 
the  demon  of  the  demos,  emerges,  and  society  is  agi¬ 
tated  with  crazes,  manias,  panics,  and  mental  plagues 
of  all  sorts. 

With  the  growth  and  civilization  of  society,  institu¬ 
tions  become  more  stable,  laws  more  rigid,  individuality 
is  more  and  more  crushed  out,  and  the  poor,  barren 
subwaking  self  is  exposed  in  all  its  nakedness  to  the 
vicissitudes  of  the  external  world.  In  civilized  society 
laws  and  regulations  press  on  the  individual  from  all 
sides.  Whenever  one  attempts  to  rise  above  the  dead 
level  of  commonplace  life,  instantly  the  social  screw 
begins  to  work,  and  down  is  brought  upon  him  the 


*  “  The  vast  majority  of  persons,”  writes  F.  Galton,  “  of  onr  race 
have  a  natural  tendency  to  shrink  from  the  responsibility  of  stand¬ 
ing  and  acting  alone ;  they  exalt  the  vox  vopuli ,  even  when  they 
know  it  to  be  the  utterance  of  a  mob  of  nobodies,  into  the  vox  Dei . 
and  they  are  willing  slaves  to  tradition,  authority,  and  custom.” 

21 


312 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  SUGGESTION. 


tremendous  weight  of  the  socio-static  press,  and  it 
squeezes  him  back  into  the  mire  of  mediocrity,  fre¬ 
quently  crushing  him  to  death  for  his  bold  attempt. 
Man’s  relations  in  life  are  determined  and  fixed  for 
him ;  he  is  told  how  he  must  put  on  his  tie,  and  the  way 
he  must  wear  his  coat ;  such  should  be  the  fashion  of  his 
dress  on  this  particular  occasion,  and  such  should  be  the 
form  of  his  hat ;  here  must  he  nod  his  head,  put  on  a 
solemn  air  ;  and  there  take  off  his  hat,  make  a  profound 
bow,  and  display  a  smile  full  of  delight.  Personality  is 
suppressed  by  the  rigidity  of  social  organization ;  the 
cultivated,  civilized  individual  is  an  automaton,  a  mere 
puppet. 

Under  the  enormous  weight  of  the  socio-static  press, 
under  the  crushing  pressure  of  economical,  political,  and 
religious  regulations  there  is  no  possibility  for  the  indi¬ 
vidual  to  determine  his  own  relations  in  life ;  there  is 
no  possibility  for  him  to  move,  live,  and  think  freely ; 
the  personal  self  sinks,  the  suggestible,  subconscious, 
social,  impersonal  self  rises  to  the  surface,  gets  trained 
and  cultivated,  and  becomes  the  hysterical  actor  in  all 
the  tragedies  of  historical  fife. 

Laws  and  mobs,  society  and  epidemics — are  they 
not  antagonistic  ?  In  point  of  fact  they  are  intimately, 
vitally  interrelated,  they  are  two  sides  of  the  same 
shield. 

Under  normal  conditions  social  activity  no  doubt 
works  wonders ;  it  elaborates  such  marvellous  products 
as  language,  folklore,  mythology,  tribal  organization, 
etc. — products  that  can  only  be  studied  and  admired  by 
the  intellect  of  the  scientist.  When,  however,  the  so¬ 
cial  conditions  are  of  such  a  nature  as  to  charge  society 
with  strong  emotional  excitement,  or  when  the  institu¬ 
tions  dwarf  individuality,  when  they  arrest  personal 


SOCIETY  AND  EPIDEMICS. 


313 


growth,  when  they  hinder  the  free  development  and 
exercise  of  the  personal  controlling  consciousness,  then 
society  falls  into  a  hypnoid  condition,  the  social  mind 
gets  disaggregated.  The  gregarious  self  begins  to  move 
within  the  bosom  of  the  crowd  and  becomes  active ;  the 
demon  of  the  demos  emerges  to  the  surface  of  social 
life  and  throws  the  body  politic  into  convulsions  of  de¬ 
moniac  fury. 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 


STAMPEDES. 

Mental  epidemics,  panics,  stampedes  occurring  in 
social  animals,  are  especially  interesting  from  onr  point 
of  view.  In  the  Journal  of  Mental  Science  for  Janu¬ 
ary,  1872,  Dr.  W.  Lauder  Lindsay  brings  a  few  cases 
of  stampedes  among  cavalry  horses.  Of  these  stam¬ 
pedes  four  deserve  our  special  attention.  Three  were 
English  and  one  was  Russian. 

On  Monday,  August  30, 1871,  a  stampede  happened 
among  the  horses  of  the  First  Life  Guard,  encamped  on 
Cove  Common,  near  Aldershot.  The  Daily  Telegraph 
of  September  1,  1871,  gives  the  following  description 
of  the  panic :  “  A  sudden  noise  frightened  the  horses 
of  two  officers  and  caused  them  to  start  from  their 
pickets,  followed  hy  six  troop  horses.  A  panic  then 
seized  on  the  whole  line ;  three  hundred  horses  broke 
loose  simultaneously ,  running  in  all  directions,  some 
dragging  the  cords  and  pins,  and  all  wearing  their  sad¬ 
dle  cloths.  .  .  .  Almost  every  open  route  had  been 
taken  by  the  fugitives.  ...  At  one  point  the  troop 
dashed  against  the  closed  toll-gate  and  smashed  it 
to  pieces,  while  .  .  .  many  plunged  against  stakes  or 
other  obstructions,  seriously  injuring  themselves.  Sev¬ 
eral  dropped  down  dead  within  an  hour;  some  were 
drowned  in  the  canal,  and  others  were  captured  in  a 


STAMPEDES. 


315 


crippled  state.”  “  Who  could  have  thought,”  exclaims 
the  Times,  “  that  horses  would  go  mad,  like  Goldsmith’s 
dog,  to  gain  some  private  end  of  their  own  ?  and  jet, 
what  other  conclusion  can  we  form  ?  .  .  .  A  sedate  and 
virtuous  body  of  three  hundred  horses  suddenly  going 
mad,  running  over  one  another,  kicking  and  fighting 
among  themselves,  and  committing  suicide  by  all  the 
means  in  their  power.  .  .  .  The  three  hundred  horses 
.  .  .  became  frenzied  with  the  same  unity  of  purpose.” 

On  September  2,  1871,  a  second  stampede  occurred 
to  the  horses  of  the  Second  Dragoon  Guards,  also  en¬ 
camped  on  Cove  Common.  This  time  the  stampede 
was  on  a  somewhat  smaller  scale  than  the  first  one. 
According  to  the  Daily  News  of  September  4,  1871, 
“  seventy-six  horses  suddenly  broke  loose  from  the 
right  wing  of  the  regiment  and  galloped  madly  in  all 
directions.  The  vast  expanse  of  common  ground  in 
the  locality  is  intersected  by  the  Basingstoke  Canal  and 
numerous  ditches,  into  which  many  of  the  animals 
plunged  or  fell,  and  were  with  difficulty  rescued  from 
drowning  or  suffocation.” 

Next  day,  September  3d,  a  still  smaller  stampede  of 
forty  only  occurred  in  the  same  camp  to  the  horses  of 
the  Tenth  Hussars.  The  epidemic  was  rapidly  losing 
ground,  and  vanished  altogether  with  the  third  stam¬ 
pede. 

If  now  we  inquire  after  the  immediate  or  exciting 
cause  in  all  these  stampedes,  we  find  it  invariably  to  be 
some  very  trivial  accident,  in  itself  utterly  dispropor¬ 
tionate  to  the  effect  produced.  Thus  the  first  stampede 
was  caused  by  a  flock  of  geese  that  disturbed  the  repose 
of  the  chargers,  and  the  second  was  brought  about  by 
“  a  runaway  horse  from  an  adjacent  camp.”  The  excit¬ 
ing  cause  was  insignificant ;  what,  then,  was  the  pre- 


316 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  SUGGESTION. 


disposing  cause  ? — The  natural  social  suggestibility  of 
horsekind. 

Compare  now  these  equine  stampedes  with  similar 
stampedes  or  panics  among  men.  The  following  case 
may  serve  as  a  good  illustration : 

In  the  year  1761  the  citizens  of  London  were 
alarmed  by  two  shocks  of  an  earthquake,  and  the 
prophecy  of  a  third,  which  was  to  destroy  them  alto¬ 
gether.  A  crack-brained  fellow  named  Bell,  a  soldier 
in  the  Life  Guards,  was  so  impressed  with  the  idea 
that  there  would  be  a  third  earthquake  in  another 
month  that  he  lost  his  senses  and  ran  about  the  streets 
predicting  the  destruction  of  London  on  the  5th  of 
April.  Thousands  confidently  believed  his  prediction 
and  took  measures  to  transport  themselves  and  their 
families  from  the  scene  of  the  impending  calamity. 
As  the  awful  day  approached  the  excitement  became 
intense,  and  great  numbers  of  credulous  people  resorted 
to  all  the  villages  within  a  circuit  of  twenty  miles, 
awaiting  the  doom  of  London.  Islington,  Highgate, 
Hampstead,  Harrow,  and  Blackheath  were  crowded 
with  panic-stricken  fugitives,  who  paid  exorbitant 
prices  for  accommodation  to  the  housekeepers  of  these 
secure  retreats.  Such  as  could  not  afford  to  pay  for 
lodgings  at  any  of  those  places  remained  in  London 
until  two  or  three  days  before  the  time,  and  then  en¬ 
camped  in  the  surrounding  fields,  awaiting  the  tremen¬ 
dous  shock  which  was  to  lay  the  city  all  level  with  the 
dust.  The  fear  became  contagious,  and  hundreds,  who 
had  laughed  at  the  prediction  a  week  before,  packed  up 
their  goods  when  they  saw  others  doing  so  and  has¬ 
tened  away.  The  river  was  thought  to  be  a  place  of 
great  security,  and  all  the  merchant  vessels  in  the  port 
were  filled  with  people,  who  passed  the  night  between 


STAMPEDES. 


31 7 


the  4th  and  5th  on  board,  expecting  every  instant  to 
see  St.  Paul’s  totter  and  the  towers  of  Westminster 
Abbey  rock  in  the  wind  and  fall  amid  a  cloud  of  dust. 

Stampedes  have  their  leaders  just  as  mobs  have 
their  instigators,  as  political  parties  have  their  bosses, 
and  as  great  movements  have  their  saints  and  heroes. 
Each  great  stampede  has  its  political  boss,  its  “  run¬ 
away  horse,”  its  hero  who  is  obeyed  blindly  and  de¬ 
votedly  followed  even  to  the  point  of  self-destruction. 
The  suggestion  of  the  hero  is  fatal  in  its  effects.  The 
special  correspondent  of  The  Scotsman,  in  commenting 
on  the  English  stampedes,  truly  remarks :  “  It  is  always 
one  or  two  horses  which  begin  the  mischief ;  and  if 
they  were  quieted  at  once,  the  contagion  of  the  panic 
would  be  arrested.” 

If  not  counteracted,  the  suggestion  given  by  the 
boss  of  the  stampede  is  simply  irresistible,  and  is  car¬ 
ried  out  in  a  spirit  of  perfectly  blind,  slavish  obedience. 
This  can  be  clearly  seen  in  the  Russian  St.  Petersburg 
stampede  of  1871.  The  Times  correspondent  gives  the 
following  account  of  it : 

“  On  the  second  night  of  the  campaign  an  unlucky 
accident  occurred.  ...  A  regiment  of  the  Empress’s 
Cuirassiers  of  the  Guard,  nine  hundred  strong,  .  .  . 
had  arrived  at  their  cantonments.  One  of  the  squad¬ 
ron  of  horses  became  alarmed,  broke  away,  was  fol¬ 
lowed  by  the  next  squadron,  and,  a  panic  seizing  them 
all,  in  one  instant  the  whole  nine  hundred  fled  in  wild 
disorder.  .  .  .  Two  things  were  very  remarkable  in 
this  stampede.  In  the  first  place,  they  unanimously 
selected  one  large,  powerful  horse  as  their  leader ,  and, 
with  a  look  at  him  and  a  snort  at  him  which  they 
meant  and  he  understood  as  apres  vous ,  they  actually 
waited  until  he  dashed  to  the  front,  and  then  followed 


318 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  SUGGESTION. 


in  wild  confusion.  When  I  tell  you  that  some  of  the 
horses  were  not  recovered  till  they  had  gone  one  hun¬ 
dred  and  twenty  miles  into  Finland,  you  may  imagine 
what  the  panic  was. 

“  The  second  remarkable  thing  is  the  way  that  some 
of  them  were  stopped.  In  one  solid  mass  they  dashed 
on  for  miles,  and  then  came  directly,  at  right  angles,  on 
a  river.  In  front  of  them  was  a  bridge,  but  on  the 
other  side  of  the  bridge  was  a  sort  of  tete  du  pout  and 
a  small  picket  of  cavalry.  The  horse  which  led  would 
not  face  the  bridge,  seeing  the  cavalry  at  the  other  end, 
but  turned  to  one  side,  dashed  into  the  stream,  and  the 
whole  nine  hundred  horses  swam  the  river  together . 
As  they  emerged  and  flew  wildly  on,  the  commander 
of  the  picket  bethought  him  of  a  ruse ,  and  ordered  a 
bugler  to  blow  the  ajpjpel .  This  is  always  blown  when 
the  horses  are  going  to  be  fed.  .  .  .  All  the  old  horses 
pricked  up  their  ears,  wavered,  stopped,  paused,  turned 
round  and  trotted  back.  .  .  .  This  severed  the  mass. 
.  .  .  The  rest  was  broken  up.” 

Those  who  live  in  a  democracy  and  have  the  in¬ 
terests  of  the  country  at  heart  may  well  ponder  on  these 
stampedes.  From  our  standpoint  these  stampedes  are 
very  interesting  and  highly  instructive,  because  they 
clearly  show  the  extreme  suggestibility  to  which  the 
social  brute  is  constantly  subject. 


CHAPTER  XXX. 


MEDIAEVAL  MENTAL  EPIDEMICS. 

The  phenomena  of  history  lie  open  before  ns. 
Looking  back  to  the  middle  ages,  we  find  them  to  be 
times  in  which  abnormal  social  suggestibility  was  dis¬ 
played  on  a  grand  scale — times  full  of  mobs,  riots,  of 
blind  movements  of  vast  human  masses,  of  terrible 
epidemics  ravaging  Europe  from  end  to  end.  They 
were  ages  peculiar  for  the  seemingly  strange  fact  that 
whole  cities,  extensive  provinces,  great  countries  were 
stricken  by  one  mental  disease.  Men  went  mad  in 
packs,  in  tens  of  thousands.  An  obscure  individual  in 
some  remote  country  place  went  off  into  fits  of  hys¬ 
terics,  and  soon  nations  were  struggling  in  convulsions 
of  hysterical  insanity. 

The  middle  ages  appear  to  us  as  dark  and  brutal. 
We  consider  ourselves  vastly  superior  to  the  mediaeval 
peasant,  burgher,  and  knight,  with  their  superstitions, 
religious  fervor,  with  their  recurrent  mental  epidemics. 
But  might  we  not  meet  with  a  similar  fate  at  the  hands 
of  our  descendants  ?  Might  not  a  future  historian  look 
back  to  our  own  times  with  dismay,  if  not  with  horror  ? 
He  might  represent  our  “  modern  civilized  ”  times  as 
dark,  cruel,  brutal ;  times  of  the  St.  Bartholomew  butch¬ 
ery  and  other  Protestant  massacres  ;  times  of  the  Thirty 

Years’  War,  of  the  Seven  Years’  War,  of  the  terrors 

319 


320 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  SUGGESTION. 


of  the  French  Revolution,  of  the  brutal  Napoleonic 
wars ;  times  of  the  absurd  tulip  craze  in  Holland,  of 
great  commercial  manias  and  business  bubbles,  and  of 
still  greater  industrial  panics  and  crises ;  times  of  Sal¬ 
vation  armies,  Coxey  mobs,  of  blind  religious  revivals, 
of  mental  epidemics  and  plagues  of  all  sorts  and  de¬ 
scriptions. 

Different  as  mediaeval  society  is  from  our  own,  it  is 
still  at  bottom  of  like  nature.  A  close  inspection  of  it 
will  therefore  help  us  to  see  clearer  into  the  nature  of 
our  own  social  life. 

The  life  of  the  mediaeval  individual  was  regulated 
down  to  its  least  details  by  rigid  laws,  orders,  and  com¬ 
mands.  The  guild,  the  order,  the  commune,  and  the 
church  all  had  minute  regulations,  rules,  and  prescrip¬ 
tions  for  the  slightest  exigencies  of  life.  Nothing  was 
left  to  individual  enterprise ;  even  love  had  its  rules 
and  customs.  Society  was  divided  and  subdivided  into 
classes  and  groups,  each  having  its  own  fixed  rules,  each 
leading  its  own  peculiar,  narrow,  dwarfish  life.  The 
weight  of  authority  was  crushing,  social  pressure  was 
overwhelming,  the  inhibition  of  the  individual’s  will 
was  complete,  and  the  suggestible,  social,  subwaking 
self  was  in  direct  relation  with  the  external  environ¬ 
ment. 

A  brief  review  of  the  chief  mental  epidemics  of 
that  time  will  at  once  show  us  the  extreme  suggesti¬ 
bility  of  mediaeval  society. 

The  most  striking  phenomenon  in  mediaeval  history 
is  that  of  the  Crusades,  which  agitated  European  nations 
for  about  two  centuries,  and  cost  them  about  seven 
million  men.  People  were  drawn  by  an  irresistible 
longing  toward  the  Holy  Sepulchre,  which  fascinated 
their  mental  gaze,  just  as  the  butterfly  is  blindly  drawn 


MEDIAEVAL  MENTAL  EPIDEMICS. 


321 


toward  the  candle.  This  attraction  of  devout  Christians 
bj  the  Holy  Sepulchre  manifested  itself  in  pilgrimages, 
which  at  first  were  rare,  but  gradually  spread,  and  be¬ 
came  a  universal  mania.  Bishops  abandoned  their 
dioceses,  princes  their  dominions,  to  visit  the  tomb  of 
Christ. 

At  the  time  of  its  highest  tide,  the  flood  of  pilgrims 
was  suddenly  stopped  by  the  Seljukian  Turks,  who 
conquered  Palestine  about  1076.  As  a  maniac,  when 
thwarted  in  his  purpose,  becomes  raving  and  violent, 
so  did  Europe  become  when  the  floodgates  of  the  pil¬ 
grim  torrent  were  stopped,  and  only  drops  were  let  to 
trickle  through.  European  humanity  fell  into  a  fit  of 
acute  mania  which  expressed  itself  in  the  savage  ecstasy 
of  the  first  Crusade. 

Peter  the  Hermit  and  Pope  Urban  II  were  the 
heroes  who  first  broke  the  ice,  and  directed  the  popular 
current  to  the  conquest  of  the  Holy  Land.  The  fiery 
appeals  of  the  emaciated,  dwarfish  hermit  Peter  car¬ 
ried  everything  before  them.  The  frenzy  which  had 
unsettled  the  mind  of  the  hermit  was  by  him  com¬ 
municated  to  his  hearers,  and  they  became  enraptured, 
entranced  with  the  splendid  schemes  he  unfolded. 

Meantime  Pope  Urban  II  convoked  two  councils, 
one  after  another.  At  the  second  council,  that  of 
Clermont,  the  pope  addressed  a  multitude  of  thou¬ 
sands  of  people.  His  speech  was  at  first  listened  to  in 
solemn  silence.  Gradually,  however,  as  he  proceeded, 
sobs  broke  out.  “  Listen  to  nothing,”  he  exclaimed, 
“but  the  groans  of  Jerusalem!  .  .  .  And  remember 
that  the  Lord  has  said,  ‘  He  that  will  not  take  up  his 
cross  and  follow  me  is  unworthy  of  me.’  You  are  the 
soldiers  of  the  cross  ;  wear,  then,  on  your  breast  or  on 
your  shoulders  the  blood-red  sign  of  him  who  died  for 


322 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  SUGGESTION. 


the  salvation  of  jour  soul !  ”  The  suggestion  was  irre¬ 
sistible.  Leaving  the  fields  and  towns,  agricultural 
serfs  and  petty  traders  displayed  intense  eagerness  to 
reach  the  Holy  City.  If  a  rational  individual  inter¬ 
fered  with  a  word  of  warning,  their  only  answer  was 
the  suggestion  of  the  pope,  “  He  who  will  not  follow 
me  is  unworthy  of  me.”  The  whole  world  of  Western 
Christendom  fell  into  a  deep  somnambulic  condition. 
This  state  of  social  somnambulism  was  naturally  accom¬ 
panied  by  its  usual  phenomena,  by  illusions,  hallucina¬ 
tions,  and  delusions — in  other  words,  by  religious  visions 
and  miracles. 

Heinrich  von  Sybel,  in  speaking  of  the  first  Crusade, 
tells  us  that  “  we  can  hardly  understand  such  a  state  of 
mind.  It  was  much  as  if  a  large  army  were  now  to 
embark  in  balloons,  in  order  to  conquer  an  island  be¬ 
tween  the  earth  and  the  moon,  which  was  also  expected 
to  contain  the  paradise.”  Swarms  of  men  of  different 
races,  with  their  wives  and  daughters,  with  infants 
taken  from  the  cradle,  and  grandsires  on  the  verge  of 
the  grave,  and  many  sick  and  dying,  came  from  every 
direction,  all  of  them  ready  to  be  led  to  the  conquest  of 
the  Holy  Land.  Peter  the  Hermit,  Walter  the  Penni¬ 
less,  and  Gottschalk  became  the  heroes,  the  ringleaders 
of  the  mobs,  which  were  cut  to  pieces  before  they 
reached  Palestine.  Then  followed  an  army  led  by  pil¬ 
grim  princes,  who  succeeded  in  conquering  the  Holy 
Land,  and  founded  there  a  Christian  kingdom;  but 
this  kingdom  was  unstable,  and  it  fell  again  and  again 
into  the  hands  of  the  unbelievers,  and  crusade  after 
crusade  was  organized,  each  being  a  weaker  copy  of  the 
preceding,  until  1272,  when  the  crusade  epidemic  was 
completely  at  an  end. 

During  the  same  period  of  time  there  were  also 


MEDIAEVAL  MENTAL  EPIDEMICS. 


323 


western  crusades  against  the  Arabians  in  Spain  and 
against  the  unfortunate  Albigenses  in  southern  France. 
In  the  crusade  against  the  Albigenses,  according  to 
Albert  von  Stade,  a  peculiar  religious  mania  broke  out 
among  women  ;  thousands  of  them,  stark  naked  and  in 
deep  silence,  as  if  stricken  with  dumbness,  ran  franti¬ 
cally  about  the  streets.  In  Liittich  many  of  them  fell 
into  convulsions  of  ecstasy. 

The  abnormal  suggestibility  of  mediaeval  society  was 
most  clearly  seen  in  the  crusades  of  children.  About 
1212,  between  the  fourth  and  fifth  crusades,  Stephen, 
a  shepherd  boy  at  Cloyes,  in  imitation  of  his  elders,  be¬ 
gan  to  preach  to  children  of  a  holy  war.  Stephen  soon 
became  the  rage  of  the  day;  the  shrines  were  aban¬ 
doned  to  listen  to  his  words.  He  even  worked  mira¬ 
cles.  The  appeal  of  Stephen  to  the  children  to  save 
the  Holy  Sepulchre  aroused  in  the  young  a  longing  to 
join  him  in  the  holy  pilgrimage. 

The  crusade  epidemic  rapidly  spread  among  the  lit¬ 
tle  ones.  Everywhere  there  arose  children  of  ten  years, 
and  some  even  as  young  as  eight,  who  claimed  to  be 
prophets  sent  by  Stephen  in  the  name  of  God.  When 
the  “  prophets  ”  had  gathered  sufficient  numbers,  they 
began  to  march  through  towns  and  villages.  Like  a 
true  epidemic,  this  migration-mania  spared  neither  boys 
nor  girls ;  according  to  the  statements  of  the  chroni¬ 
clers,  there  was  a  large  proportion  of  little  girls  in  the 
multitude  of  hypnotized  children. 

The  king,  Philip  Augustus,  by  the  advice  of  the  Uni¬ 
versity  of  Paris,  issued  an  edict  commanding  the  chil¬ 
dren  to  return  to  their  homes ;  but  the  religious  sugges¬ 
tions  were  stronger  than  the  king’s  command,  and  the 
children  continued  to  assemble  unimpeded.  Fathers 
and  mothers  brought  to  bear  upon  the  young  all  the 


324 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OP  SUGGESTION. 


influence  they  had  to  check  this  dangerous  migration- 
mania,  but  of  no  avail.  Persuasions,  threats,  punish¬ 
ments  were  as  futile  as  the  king’s  command.  Bolts  and 
bars  could  not  hold  the  children.  If  shut  up,  they 
broke  through  doors  and  windows,  and  rushed  to  take 
their  places  in  the  processions  which  they  saw  passing  by. 
If  the  children  were  forcibly  detained,  so  that  escape 
was  impossible,  they  pined  away  like  migratory  birds 
kept  in  seclusion. 

In  a  tillage  near  Cologne,  Nicolas,  a  boy  of  ten, 
began  to  play  at  crusade-preaching.  Thousands  of 
children  flocked  to  him  from  all  sides.  As  in  France, 
all  opposition  was  of  no  avail.  Parents,  friends,  and 
pastors  sought  to  restrain  them  by  force  or  appeal ;  but 
the  young  ones  pined  so  that,  as  the  chroniclers  say, 
their  lives  were  frequently  endangered,  as  by  disease, 
and  it  was  necessary  to  allow  them  to  depart.  Hosts 
of  children  assembled  in  the  city  of  Cologne  to  start 
on  their  pilgrimage  to  the  Holy  Land.  There  they 
were  divided  into  two  armies,  one  under  the  leadership 
of  Nicolas,  the  boy-prophet,  the  other  under  some  un¬ 
known  leader.  The  armies  of  the  little  crusaders,  like 
Coxey’s  army  of  our  own  times,  were  soon  reduced  in 
numbers  by  mere  lack  of  food. 

After  many  tribulations  the  army  led  by  Nicolas, 
considerably  reduced  in  size,  reached  Pome,  where  the 
pope,  Innocent  III,  succeeded  in  diverting  this  stream 
of  little  pilgrims  back  to  Germany.  Puined,  degraded, 
and  ridiculed,  the  poor  German  children  reached  their 
homes ;  and  when  asked  what  they  in  reality  wanted, 
the  children,  as  if  aroused  from  a  narcotic  state,  an¬ 
swered  that  they  did  not  know. 

The  other  German  army  had  a  worse  fate.  After 
untold  sufferings  and  enormous  loss  of  numbers,  they 


MEDIAEVAL  MENTAL  EPIDEMICS. 


325 


reached  Brindisi,  where  they  were  treated  with  extreme 
cruelty.  The  boys  were  seized  by  the  citizens  and  sold 
into  slavery,  and  the  girls  were  maltreated  and  sold  into 
dens  of  infamy. 

The  French  little  crusaders  met  with  a  similar  fate. 
When,  after  a  long  and  fatiguing  journey,  they  at  last 
reached  Marseilles,  two  pious  merchants  voluntarily 
offered  to  provide  vessels  to  convey  the  children  to 
Palestine.  Half  of  the  vessels  suffered  shipwreck,  and 
the  rest  were  directed  to  the  shores  of  Africa,  where 
the  little  pilgrims  were  delivered  into  the  hands  of  the 
Turks  and  Arabians.  The  two  pious  merchants  were 
slave  dealers. 

A  contemporary  chronicler  *  describes  the  children’s 
crusade  epidemic  in  the  following  barbaric,  doggerel 
Latin  verse : 

Hie  vide  perigrinacionem  et  qualiter  per  incantacinnes 
sunt  decepti, 

Illis  temporibus  stupendum  quid  crevit. 

Mundoque  mirabilis  truffa  inolevit. 

Nam  sub  boni  specie  malum  sic  succrevit. 

Arte  quidem  magica  ista  late  sevit. 

•  ••••• 

Talis  devocio  ante  hec  non  est  audito. 

Aures  cunctis  pruriunt  virgines  ornantur. 

Annos  infra  sedecim  evangelizantur. 

Concurrentes  pueri  certant  et  sequantur. 

Et  romore  viderant  casso  consolantur. 

Ungarus  Theutunicus  Francus  sociantur. 

Boemus  Lombardicus  Brittoque  canantur. 

Flandria  Yestfalia  amnes  federantur. 

Friso  cum  Norwagia  cuncti  conglobantur 

Prurit  pes  et  oculus  pueros  venantur. 

•  ••••• 

Risum  luctus  occopat  digne  lamentantur. 

*  Anon.  Chron.  Rhythmicum,  in  Rauch’s  Rerum  Austriacarum 
Scriptores. 


326 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  SUGGESTION. 


No  sooner  did  the  crusade  epidemic  abate  than  an¬ 
other  one  took  its  place,  that  of  the  flagellants.  In 
1260  the  flagellants  appeared  in  Italy,  and  from  there 
spread  all  over  Europe.  “An  unexampled  spirit  of 
remorse,”  writes  a  chronicler,  “  suddenly  seized  on  the 
minds  of  the  people.  The  fear  of  Christ  fell  on  all ; 
noble  and  ignoble,  old  and  young,  and  even  children  of 
five,  marched  on  the  streets  with  no  covering  but  a  scarf 
round  their  waists.  They  each  had  a  scourge  of  leather 
thongs,  which  they  applied  to  their  limbs  with  sighs 
and  tears  with  such  violence  that  blood  flowed  from 
their  wounds.” 

As  the  flagellant  epidemic  was  dying  away,  a  terri¬ 
ble  plague  arose,  and  this  time  a  deadly  one — that  of 
the  black  death.  While  the  black  death  was  doing  its 
merciless,  destructive  work,  a  frenzy  of  anti-Semitic 
mania  seized  on  European  nations ;  they  brutally  burned 
and  slaughtered  the  unfortunate  Jews  by  thousands, 
sparing  neither  sex  nor  age. 

The  black  death  over,  the  dancing  mania  began. 
About  the  year  1370  thousands  of  dancers  filled  the 
streets  of  European  cities.  So  virulent  was  this  epi¬ 
demic  that  peasants  left  their  ploughs,  mechanics  their 
workshops,  and  housewives  their  domestic  duties,  to 
join  the  wild  revels.  Girls  and  boys  quitted  their 
parents,  and  servants  their  masters,  to  look  at  the 
dancers,  and  greedily  imbibed  the  poison  of  mental 
infection. 

In  Italy  the  dancing  mania  took  a  somewhat  differ¬ 
ent  form.  There  a  belief  spread  that  he  who  was  bit¬ 
ten  by  a  tarantula  (a  species  of  spider  whose  sting  is 
no  more  harmful  than  that  of  the  ordinary  wasp)  got 
dangerously  sick,  and  could  not  be  cured  unless  he 
danced  to  the  tune  of  the  tarantella.  Nothing  short  of 


MEDIAEVAL  MENTAL  EPIDEMICS. 


327 


death  itself  was  expected  from  the  wound  which  those 
insects  inflicted ;  and  if  those  who  were  bitten  escaped 
with  their  lives,  they  were  pining  away  in  a  desponding 
state  of  lassitude.  Many  became  weak-sighted,  lost  the 
power  of  speech,  and  were  insensible  to  ordinary  causes 
of  excitement.  At  the  sounds  of  musical  instruments 
the  patients  awoke  from  their  lethargy  and  started  a 
most  passionate  dance.  Tarantism  became  the  plague 
of  Italy.  Crowds  of  patients  thronged  the  streets  of 
the  Italian  cities,  and  danced  madly  to  the  merry  tune 
of  the  tarantella.  The  epidemic  reached  such  a  height 
and  became  so  widely  spread  that  few  persons  could 
claim  to  be  entirely  exempt  from  it.  Neither  youth 
nor  age  was  spared.  Old  men  of  ninety  and  children 
of  five  were  alike  attacked  by  it. 

Social  suggestibility  is  individual  hypnotization  writ¬ 
ten  large.  The  laws  of  hypnosis  work  on  a  great  scale 
in  society.  Hypnotic  suggestion  is  especially  effective 
if  it  accords  with  the  character  of  the  subject.  The 
same  holds  true  in  the  case  of  social  hypnotization. 
Each  nation  has  its  own  bent  of  mind,  and  suggestions 
given  in  that  direction  are  fatally  effective.  The  Jew 
is  a  fair  example.  Religious  emotions  are  at  the  basis 
of  his  character,  and  he  is  also  highly  susceptible  to 
religious  suggestions.  The  list  of  Jewish  Messiahs  is 
inordinately  long.  It  would  take  too  much  space  to 
recount  the  names  of  all  the  “  saviours  ”  who  appeared 
among  the  Jews  from  the  second  destruction  of  the 
temple  down  to  our  own  times.  A  few  strong  cases, 
however,  will  suffice.  In  the  year  1666,  on  Rosh 
Hashanah  (Jewish  New  Year),  a  Jew,  by  name  Sab- 
bathai  Zevi,  declared  himself  publicly  as  the  long-ex¬ 
pected  Messiah.  The  Jewish  populace  was  full  of  glee 
at  hearing  such  happy  news,  and  in  the  ardour  of  its 
22 


328 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  SUGGESTION. 


belief,  in  the  insanity  of  its  religious  intoxication,  shout¬ 
ed  fervently,  “  Long  live  the  Jewish  King,  our  Mes¬ 
siah  !  ”  A  maniacal  ecstasy  took  possession  of  the  Jew¬ 
ish  mind.  Men,  women,  and  children  fell  into  fits  of 
hysterics.  Business  men  left  their  occupations,  work¬ 
men  their  trades,  and  devoted  themselves  to  prayer  and 
penitence.  The  synagogues  resounded  with  sighs,  cries, 
and  sobs  for  days  and  nights  together.  The  religious 
mania  became  so  furious  that  all  the  rabbis  who  op¬ 
posed  it  had  to  save  their  lives  by  flight.  Among  the 
Persian  Jews  the  excitement  ran  so  high  that  all  the 
Jewish  husbandmen  refused  to  labour  in  the  fields. 
Even  Christians  regarded  Sabbathai  with  awe,  for  this 
event  took  place  in  the  apocalyptic  year.  The  fame  of 
Sabbathai  spread  throughout  the  world.  In  Poland, 
in  Germany,  in  Holland,  and  in  England,  the  course 
of  business  was  interrupted  on  the  exchange  by  the 
gravest  Jews  breaking  off  to  discuss  this  wonder¬ 
ful  event.  The  Jews  of  Amsterdam  sent  inquiries 
to  their  commercial  agents  in  the  Levant,  and  re¬ 
ceived  the  brief  and  emphatic  reply,  “  It  is  He,  and 
no  other !  ” 

"Wherever  the  messages  of  the  Messiah  came,  there 
the  Jews  instituted  fast  days,  according  to  the  cabalistic 
regulations  of  Hathan  the  prophet,  and  afterward  aban¬ 
doned  themselves  to  gross  intemperance.  The  Jewish 
communities  of  Amsterdam  and  Hamburg  were  espe¬ 
cially  conspicuous  for  their  absurd  religious  extrava¬ 
gances.  In  Amsterdam  the  Jews  marched  through  the 
streets,  carrying  with  them  rolls  of  the  torah,  singing, 
leaping,  and  dancing  as  if  possessed.  Scenes  still  more 
turbulent,  licentious,  and  wild  occurred  in  Hamburg, 
Venice,  Leghorn,  Avignon,  and  in  many  other  cities  of 
Italy,  Germany,  France,  and  Poland.  The  tide  of  re- 


MEDIAEVAL  MENTAL  EPIDEMICS. 


329 


ligious  mania  rose  so  high  that  even  such  learned  men 
as  Isaac  Aboab,  Moses  de  Aguilar,  Isaac  Hoar,  the  rich 
banker  and  writer  Abraham  Pereira,  and  the  Spinozist, 
Dr.  Benjamin  Musaphia,  became  ardent  adherents  of 
the  Messiah.  Spinoza  himself  seemed  to  have  followed 
these  strange  events  with  great  interest. 

The  tide  of  religious  mania  rose  higher  and  higher. 
In  all  parts  of  the  world  prophets  and  prophetesses  ap¬ 
peared,  thus  realizing  the  J ewish  belief  in  the  inspired 
nature  of  Messianic  times.  Men  and  women,  boys  and 
girls,  wriggled  in  hysterical  convulsions,  screaming 
praises  to  the  new  Messiah ;  many  went  raving  about 
in  prophetic  raptures,  exclaiming :  “  Sabbathai  Zevi  is 
the  true  Messiah  of  the  race  of  David ;  to  him  the 
crown  and  kingdom  are  given  !  ” 

The  Jews  seemed  to  have  gone  mad.  From  all 
sides  rich  men  came  to  Sabbathai,  putting  their  wealth 
at  his  disposal.  Many  sold  out  their  houses  and  all 
they  possessed,  and  set  out  for  Palestine.  So  great 
was  the  number  of  pilgrims  that  the  price  of  passage 
was  considerably  raised.  Traffic  in  the  greatest  com¬ 
mercial  centres  came  to  a  complete  standstill ;  most  of 
the  Jewish  merchants  and  bankers  liquidated  their 
affairs.  The  belief  in  the  divine  mission  of  Sabbathai 
was  made  into  a  religious  dogma  of  equal  rank  with 
that  of  the  unity  of  G-od.  Even  when  Sabbathai  was 
compelled  by  the  Sultan  to  accept  Mohammedanism  the 
mystico-Messianic  epidemic  continued  to  rage  with 
unabated  fury.  Many  stubbornly  rejected  the  fact  of 
his  apostasy:  it  was  his  shade  that  had  turned  Mus¬ 
sulman. 

After  Sabbathai’ s  death  a  new  prophet  appeared,  by 
the  name  of  Michael  Cordozo.  His  doctrine,  in  spite  of 
its  manifest  absurdity,  spread  like  wildfire.  “  The  Son 


830 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  SUGGESTION. 


of  David,”  he  said,  “  will  not  appear  until  all  Israel  is 
either  holy  or  wicked.”  As  the  latter  was  by  far  the 
easier  process,  he  recommended  all  true  Israelites  to 
hasten  the  coming  of  the  Messiah  by  turning  Moham¬ 
medans.  Great  numbers  with  pious  zeal  complied  with 
his  advice. 

As  an  individual  man  may  be  foolish  and  mis¬ 
chievous,  but  as  a  social  brute  he  is  absurd  and  dan¬ 
gerous. 


CHAPTEK  XXXI. 

DEMONOPHOBIA. 

About  the  end  of  the  fifteenth  century  the  germs 
of  a  fearful  epidemic  got  lodged  within  the  subcon¬ 
scious  mind  of  Western  humanity.  Demonophobia, 
the  fear  of  demons,  the  fear  of  witchcraft,  got  posses¬ 
sion  of  the  mind  of  European  nations.  Whole  popu¬ 
lations  seemed  to  have  been  driven  crazy  with  the  fear 
of  the  devil.  For  more  than  a  century  and  a  half  did 
the  epidemic  of  demonophobia  rage  with  an  over¬ 
whelming  fury.  Xo  one  was  exempt  from  this  mal¬ 
ady  of  truly  infernal  origin.  The  old  and  the  young, 
the  ignorant  and  the  learned,  were  stricken  by  it  alike. 

In  all  European  countries  the  same  absurd  opinions 
and  insane  ideas  prevailed  as  to  the  power  of  impious 
and  malicious  people,  especially  of  old  women,  to  effect 
supernatural  mischief,  to  fly  through  space,  to  change 
themselves  into  dogs,  cats,  wolves,  and  goats,  to  kill, 
worry,  or  terrify  men,  women,  and  children  for  their 
pastime,  and  to  feed  on  the  flesh  of  the  latter  at  horrid 
banquets  presided  over  by  devils.* 

Europe  seemed  to  have  become  a  vast  asylum  of 
paranoiacs,  of  monomaniacs,  possessed  with  the  fear  of 
persecution  by  infernal  agencies.  Weak-minded  per- 


*  Phantasmata,  vol.  i.  R.  R.  Madden. 
331 


332 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OP  SUGGESTION. 


sons,  old,  helpless,  demented  men  and  women,  hyster¬ 
ical  subjects,  and  insane  patients  with  a  disposition  to 
form  delusions  were  accused,  or  accused  themselves,  of 
having  entered  into  intimate  relationship  with  imps, 
incubi,  succubi,  and  even  of  having  had  direct  inter¬ 
course  with  the  archfiend  himself.  So  strong  were  the 
suspicions  of  this  peculiar  acute  form  of  social  paranoia 
persecutoria  that  neither  beauty  nor  tender  age  could 
serve  as  protection. 

The  pope,  Innocent  YIII,  in  his  bull  of  1488  made 
a  strong  appeal  to  his  Catholic  fold  to  rescue  the  Church 
of  Christ  from  the  power  of  Satan.  He  preached  a 
crusade  against  the  atrocious,  unpardonable  sin  of  witch¬ 
craft.  The  land  must  be  purified  of  this  great  evil. 
Those  servants  of  the  devil,  the  sorcerers  and  witches, 
commit  the  horrible  crime  of  having  intercourse  with 
impure  spirits  ;  moreover,  they  delight  in  mischief  and 
evildoing ;  they  blast  the  corn  of  the  field,  the  herbs 
of  the  orchard,  the  grapes  of  the  garden,  and  the 
fruits  of  the  trees ;  they  afflict  with  diseases  man  and 
beast.  Sorcery  must  be  wiped  out  from  the  face  of 
the  earth. 

The  appeal  of  the  pope  made  a  strong  impression 
on  the  minds  of  the  people,  and  the  malady  of  demono¬ 
phobia  was  fairly  under  way.  On  all  sides  men  sprang 
up  who  made  it  their  sole  business  to  discover  and  bum 
sorcerers  and  witches.  Sprenger,  the  author  of  Mal¬ 
leus  Maleficarum ,  with  true  German  thoroughness, 
even  worked  out  a  whole  system  of  rules  by  which  the 
inquisitors  in  other  countries  might  best  discover  the 
guilty.  The  inquisitors,  for  instance,  were  required  to 
ask  the  suspected  whether  they  had  midnight  meetings 
with  the  devil ;  whether  they  attended  the  witches’  sab¬ 
bath  ;  whether  they  could  raise  whirlwinds ;  whether 


DEMONOPHOBIA. 


333 


they  had  had  sexual  intercourse  with  Satan.  To  elicit 
affirmative  answers,  tortures  of  the  most  excruciating 
kinds  were  employed. 

Pious  and  zealous  inquisitors  set  at  once  to  their 
deadly  work.  Cumanus,  in  Italy,  burned  forty-one  poor 
women  in  one  province  alone ;  and  Sprenger,  in  Ger¬ 
many,  burned  numbers  of  them ;  his  victims  amounted 
to  as  many  as  nine  hundred  in  a  year.  The  German 
commissioners  appointed  by  the  pope,  Innocent  YIII, 
condemned  to  the  stake  upward  of  three  thousand 
victims. 

The  new  commissioners  for  the  extermination  of 
witchcraft  appointed  by  each  successive  pope  still  fur¬ 
ther  increased  the  virulence  of  the  epidemic.  One  was 
appointed  by  Alexander  VI  in  1494,  another  by  Leo  X 
in  1521,  and  a  third  by  Adrian  VI  in  1522.  The  epi¬ 
demic  of  demonophobia  increased  from  year  to  year,  and 
the  spirit  of  persecution  grew  in  vigour  and  intensity. 
In  Geneva  alone  five  hundred  persons  were  burned  in 
the  years  1515  and  1516.  Bartholomew  de  Spina  in¬ 
forms  us  that  in  the  year  1524  no  less  than  a  thousand 
persons  suffered  death  for  witchcraft  in  the  district  of 
Como,  and  that  for  several  years  afterward  the  average 
number  of  victims  exceeded  one  hundred  annually. 
One  inquisitor,  Remigius,  took  great  credit  to  himself 
for  having  during  fifteen  years  convicted  and  burned 
nine  hundred.  The  inquisitor  of  a  rural  township  in 
Piedmont  burned  the  victims  so  plentifully  and  so  fast 
that  there  was  not  a  family  in  the  place  which  had  not 
its  dead  to  mourn. 

The  Reformation  helped  little  to  alleviate  this  witch¬ 
craft  mania ;  on  the  contrary,  it  only  served  to  intensify 
this  truly  demoniacal  malady.  The  spirit  of  persecu¬ 
tion  was  even  stronger  in  Protestant  than  in  Catholic 


334 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  SUGGESTION. 


countries.  In  Luther’s  Table  Talk  we  find  the  follow¬ 
ing  item  : 

“August  25,  1538.  The  conversation  fell  upon 
witches,  who  spoil  milk,  eggs,  and  butter  in  farmyards. 
Dr.  Luther  said  :  6 1  should  have  no  compassion  on  these 
witches  ;  I  would  burn  all  of  them,?  ” 

In  France,  fires  for  the  execution  of  witches  blazed 
in  almost  every  town.  Children  were  torn  away  from 
their  parents  and  wives  taken  from  their  husbands  and 
cruelly  sacrificed  to  the  Moloch  of  demonophobia.  The 
people  became  so  strongly  possessed  with  the  fear  of 
persecution  by  infernal  agencies  that  in  1579  a  great 
alarm  was  raised  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Melun  by 
the  increase  of  witches,  and  a  council  was  to  devise 
some  measures  to  stay  the  evil.  A  decree  was  passed 
that  all  witches  and  consultors  with  witches  should  be 
punished  with  death ;  and  not  only  those,  but  also  for¬ 
tune-tellers  and  conjurers.  In  the  following  year  the 
Parliament  of  Rouen  took  up  the  same  question,  and  de¬ 
creed  that  the  possession  of  a  grimoire ,  or  book  of  spells, 
was  sufficient  evidence  of  witchcraft,  and  that  all  per¬ 
sons  on  whom  such  books  were  found  should  be  burned 
alive.  Three  councils  were  held  in  different  parts  of 
France  in  the  year  1583,  all  relating  to  demonophobia. 

From  the  Continent  the  epidemic  spread  to  Eng¬ 
land.  In  1562  the  statute  of  Elizabeth  declared  witch¬ 
craft  as  a  crime  of  the  highest  magnitude.  An  epi¬ 
demic  terror  of  witchcraft  seized  on  the  English  mind, 
and  this  epidemic  spread  and  grew  in  virulence  with  the 
growth  of  Puritanism. 

In  Scotland  the  germs  of  the  epidemic  were  dili¬ 
gently  cultivated  by  the  preachers  of  the  Reformation. 
In  1563  the  ninth  parliament  of  Queen  Mary  passed 
an  act  that  decreed  the  punishment  of  death  against 


DEMONOPHOBIA. 


335 


witches  and  consnlters  of  witches.  The  Scotch  nation 
was  smitten  with  an  epidemic  fear  of  the  devil  and  his 
infernal  agents.  Sorcerers  and  witches  were  hunted 
out  and  tortured  with  a  truly  demoniacal  cruelty.  As 
a  fair  example  of  the  cruelties  and  tortures  practised 
on  the  poor  unfortunates  convicted  of  witchcraft  may 
be  taken  the  case  of  Dr.  Fian,  a  petty  schoolmaster  of 
Tranent. 

Dr.  Fian  was  accused  of  sorcery.  He  was  arrested 
and  put  on  the  rack,  but  he  would  confess  nothing,  and 
held  out  so  long  unmoved  that  the  severe  tortures  of 
the  boots  was  resolved  upon.  He  fainted  away  from 
great  pain,  but  still  no  confession  escaped  his  lips.  Re¬ 
storatives  were  then  administered  to  him,  and  during 
the  first  faint  gleam  of  returning  consciousness  he  was 
prevailed  upon  to  sign  a  full  confession  of  his  crime. 
He  was  then  remanded  to  his  prison,  from  which 
he  managed  to  escape.  He  was  soon  recaptured  and 
brought  before  the  Court  of  Judiciary,  James  I,  the 
demonologist,  being  present.  Fian  denied  all  the  cir¬ 
cumstances  of  the  written  confession  which  he  had 
signed ;  whereupon  the  king,  enraged  at  his  stubborn 
wilfulness,  ordered  him  once  more  to  the  torture.  Dr. 
Fian’s  finger  nails  were  riven  out  with  pincers,  and 
long  needles  thrust,  their  entire  length,  into  the  quick. 
He  was  then  consigned  again  to  the  boots,  in  which  he 
continued  “  so  long,  and  abode  so  many  blows  in  them 
that  his  legs  were  crushed  and  beaten  together  as  small 
as  might  be,  and  the  bones  and  fiesh  so  bruised  that  the 
blood  and  marrow  spouted  forth  in  great  abundance.” 

The  social  malady  of  demonophobia  kept  on  grow¬ 
ing  among  the  Scotch,  and  the  spirit  of  persecution 
grew  in  violence  from  year  to  year.  From  the  passing 
of  the  act  of  Queen  Mary  till  the  accession  of  James  to 


336 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  SUGGESTION. 


the  throne  of  England,  a  period  of  thirty-nine  years, 
the  average  number  of  persecutions  for  witchcraft  in 
Scotland  was  two  hundred  annually,  or  upward  of  sev¬ 
enteen  thousand  victims ! 

Witch-finding  in  Scotland  became  a  regular  trade, 
and  hundreds  of  ruffians  carried  on  this  profession  with 
great  profit.  It  was  believed  that  the  devil  put  his 
mark  on  his  servants  in  the  shape  of  an  anaesthetic,  or 
rather  analgesic,  spot — a  spot  free  from  pain.  Such  an¬ 
aesthetic  spots,  as  we  know,  exist  in  hysterical  subjects, 
and  can  be  easily  induced  by  suggestion.  The  witch- 
finders,  armed  with  long  pins,  roamed  about  the  coun¬ 
try,  pricking  the  flesh  of  supposed  criminals.  Once 
the  anaesthetic  spot  was  found  the  person  was  doomed 
to  death.  So  acute  was  the  social  mental  malady  of 
demonophobia  that  no  one  once  accused  of  relations 
with  the  devil  was  acquitted.  To  be  accused  of  witch¬ 
craft  meant  to  be  guilty  of  it,  and  to  be  guilty  of  witch¬ 
craft  was  certain  death. 

In  the  year  1597  King  James  I  published  his  famous 
— or  infamous — treatise  on  demonology.  “  Witches,” 
says  the  king,  “  ought  to  be  put  to  death,  according  to  the 
law  of  God,  the  civil  and  imperial  law,  and  the  munici¬ 
pal  law  of  all  Christian  nations :  yea,  to  spare  the  life, 
and  not  strike  whom  God  bids  strike,  and  so  severely 
punish  in  so  odious  a  treason  against  God,  is  not  only 
unlawful,*  but  doubtless  as  great  a  sin  in  the  magistrate 
as  was  Saul’s  sparing  Agag.”  He  says  also  that  the 
crime  is  so  abominable  that  it  may  be  proved  by  evi¬ 
dence  which  would  not  be  received  against  any  other 
offenders — young  children  who  knew  not  the  nature  of 
an  oath  and  persons  of  an  infamous  character  being 
sufficient  witnesses  against  them.  To  be,  however, 
more  sure,  James  gives  us  well-tried  tests  for  the  disco v- 


DEMONOPHOBIA. 


337 


er y  of  witches  and  sorcerers.  “  Two  good  helps,”  says 
James,  “  may  be  used :  the  one  is  the  finding  of  their 
mark  and  the  trying  of  the  insensibleness  thereof ;  the 
other  is  their  floating  on  the  water ;  for,  as  in  a  secret 
murther,  if  the  dead  carcass  be  at  any  time  thereafter 
handled  by  the  murtherer,  it  will  gush  out  of  the  blood, 
as  if  the  blood  were  crying  to  Heaven  for  revenge  of 
the  murtherer  (God  having  appointed  that  secret  super¬ 
natural  sign  for  trial  of  that  secret  unnatural  crime) ;  so 
that  it  appears  that  God  hath  appointed  (for  a  super¬ 
natural  sign  of  the  monstrous  impiety  of  witches)  that 
the  water  shall  refuse  to  receive  them  in  her  bosom  that 
have  shaken  off  them  the  sacred  water  of  baptism  and 
wilfully  refused  the  benefit  thereof ;  no,  not  so  much 
as  their  eyes  are  able  to  shed  tears  (threaten  and  torture 
them  as  you  please)  while  first  they  repent  (God  not 
permitting  them  to  dissemble  their  obstinacy  in  so  hor¬ 
rible  a  crime)  ;  albeit  the  womankind  especially  be  able 
otherwise  to  shed  tears  at  every  light  occasion  when 
they  will,  yea,  although  it  were  dissembling  like  the 
crocodiles.” 

With  the  accession  of  James,  the  demonologist,  to 
the  throne  of  England  the  epidemic  of  demonophobia 
burst  forth  among  the  English  with  renewed  vigour 
and  with  more  intense  fury  than  ever.  In  1604  the 
first  parliament  of  King  James  passed  a  bill  to  the 
effect  “  that  if  any  person  shall  use,  practise,  or  exer¬ 
cise  any  conjuration  of  any  wicked  or  evil  spirit,  or 
shall  consult,  covenant  with,  or  feed  any  spirit,  the  first 
offence  to  be  imprisonment  for  a  year  and  standing  in 
the  pillory  once  a  quarter ;  the  second  offence  to  be 
death.” 

This  act  of  James  I  against  witchcraft  was  passed 
when  Lord  Bacon  was  a  member  of  the  House  of  Com- 


338 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  SUGGESTION. 


mons  and  Lord  Coke  was  attorney-general.  That  act 
was  referred  to  a  committee  which  had  the  spiritual 
guidance  of  twelve  bishops  of  the  Church  of  Eng¬ 
land. 

As  a  rule,  however,  the  minor  punishment  was  but 
rarely  inflicted.  Nearly  all  of  the  records  report  cases 
of  accused  hanged  and  burned  alive  and  quick.  Dur¬ 
ing  the  long  period  of  social  cataclysms  from  the  reign 
of  James  I  to  that  of  Charles  II,  the  epidemic  of 
demonophobia  continued  to  rage  with  unabated  fury. 
Dr.  Zachary  Grey,  in  a  note  to  “  Hudibras,”  informs  us 
that  he  himself  perused  a  list  of  three  thousand  witches 
executed  in  the  time  of  the  Long  Parliament  alone. 
During  the  first  eighty  years  of  the  seventeenth  century 
the  number  executed  has  been  estimated  at  five  hun¬ 
dred  annually,  making  a  total  of  forty  thousand. 

Among  the  English  inquisitors,  Matthew  Hopkins, 
the  witch-finder,  greatly  distinguished  himself  for  his 
insane  passion  of  witch  persecution.  He  claimed  to 
have  a  thorough  knowledge  of  “such  cattle,”  as  he 
called  the  witches,  and  soon  assumed  the  title  of  “Witch- 
finder  Generali.”  He  travelled  through  the  counties 
of  Norfolk,  Essex,  Huntington,  and  Sussex  for  the  sole 
purpose  of  finding  out  the  servants  of  the  devil.*  The 
most  favourable  test,  however,  with  him  was  that  of 
swimming.  The  hands  and  feet  of  the  suspected  per¬ 
sons  were  tied  together  crosswise,  the  thumb  of  the 
right  hand  to  the  toe  of  the  left  foot,  and  the  thumb  of 


*  The  repetition  of  the  Lord’s  Prayer  and  Creed  was  a  sure  test 
to  discover  the  followers  of  Beelzebub.  No  witch  could  do  so  cor¬ 
rectly.  If  she  missed  a  word,  or  even  if  she  pronounced  one  in¬ 
coherently,  she  was  guilty.  Tearlessness  was  also  a  good  test. 
Witches  can  not  shed  more  than  three  tears,  and  that  only  from  the 
left  eye. 


DEMONOPHOBIA. 


339 


the  left  hand  to  the  toe  of  the  right  foot.  The  unfor¬ 
tunates  were  then  wrapped  up  in  a  large  blanket  and 
laid  upon  their  backs  in  a  pond  or  river.  If  they  sank 
and  were  drowned,  they  were  innocent ;  but  if  they 
floated,  they  were  guilty  of  witchcraft  and  were  burned 
“  alive  and  quick.” 

Another  favourite  method  of  Hopkins,  “  the  Witch- 
finder  Generali,”  was  to  tie  the  suspected  witch  in  the 
middle  of  a  room  to  a  chair  or  table  in  some  uneasy 
posture.  He  then  placed  persons  to  watch  her  for  four- 
and-twenty  hours,  during  which  time  she  was  kept  with¬ 
out  food  and  drink.  In  this  state  one  of  her  imps  will 
surely  come  and  visit  her  and  suck  her  blood.  As  the 
imp  might  come  in  the  shape  of  a  moth  or  a  fly,  a 
hole  was  made  in  the  door  or  window  to  admit  it.  If 
any  fly  escaped  from  the  room,  and  the  watchers  could 
not  catch  it  and  kill  it,  the  woman  was  guilty,  and  she 
was  sentenced  to  death.  Thus  a  poor  old  woman  was 
found  guilty,  because  four  flies  appeared  in  the  room, 
and  she  was  made  to  confess  that  she  had  in  her  employ 
four  imps  named  “  Ilemazar,”  “  Pye-wackett,”  “  Peck- 
in-the  Crown,”  and  “  Grizel-Greedigut.” 

In  the  seventeenth  century  the  social  malady  of 
demonophobia  reached  its  acme  of  development.  The 
epidemic  was  in  full  swing.  “  The  world  seemed  to  be 
like  a  large  madhouse  for  witches  and  devils  to  play 
their  antics  in  ”  The  terror  of  mysterious  evil  agencies 
fell  on  the  spirits  of  men.  The  demon  of  fear  seemed 
to  have  obsessed  the  mind  of  European  humanity. 
Continental  Europe,  especially  France,  Germany,  and 
Switzerland,  suffered  greatly  from  the  epidemic.  High 
and  low  were  attacked  by  this  malady  without  any 
discrimination.  In  fact,  the  more  learned  one  was 
the  stronger  was  the  malady,  the  more  acute  was  the 


340 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  SUGGESTION. 


fear  of  inimical  mysterious  agencies.  Social  paranoia 
persecutoria  seemed  to  have  become  chronic. 

The  great  Bodinus,  the  highest  authority  of  the  sev¬ 
enteenth  century,  tells  us  that  “  the  trial  of  the  offence 
[witchcraft]  must  not  be  conducted  like  other  crimes. 
Whoever  adheres  to  the  ordinary  course  of  justice  per¬ 
verts  the  spirit  of  the  law,  both  divine  and  human. 
He  who  is  accused  of  sorcery  should  never  he  acquitted , 
unless  the  malice  of  the  persecutor  he  clearer  than  the 
sun ;  for  it  is  so  difficult  to  bring  full  proof  of  this 
secret  crime,  that  out  of  a  million  of  witches  not  one 
would  be  convicted  if  the  usual  course  were  followed  ”  ! 

Thousands  upon  thousands  of  victims  were  cruelly 
sacrificed  to  that  insane  fear  of  evil  spirits.  Nurem¬ 
berg,  Geneva,  Paris,  Toulouse,  Lyons,  and  many  other 
cities,  brought  on  the  average  an  annual  sacrifice  of 
two  hundred  ;  Cologne  burned  three  hundred  and  the 
district  of  Bamberg  four  hundred  witches  and  sorcerers 
annually. 

The  list  of  trials  of  the  city  of  Wurzburg  for  only 
two  years,  from  1627  to  1629,  may  serve  as  an  illustra¬ 
tion  of  the  diabolical  work  done  by  that  insane  spirit  of 
demonophobia.  Hauber,  who  has  preserved  the  list  in 
his  Acta  et  Scripta  Magica ,  says,  in  a  note  at  the  end, 
that  it  is  far  from  being  complete,  and  that  there  were 
a  great  many  other  burnings  too  numerous  to  specify. 
This  list  of  executions  contains  the  names  of  one 
hundred  and  fifty-seven  persons  who  were  burned  in 
the  course  of  two  years  in  twenty -nine  burnings,  aver¬ 
aging  from  five  to  six  at  a  time.  It  comprises  three 
play  actors,  four  innkeepers,  three  common  councilmen 
of  Wurzburg,  fourteen  vicars  of  the  cathedral,  the  bur¬ 
gomaster’s  lady,  an  apothecary's  wife  and  daughter,  two 
choristers  of  the  cathedral,  Gobel  Babolin,  the  prettiest 


DEMONOPHOBIA. 


341 


girl  in  the  town,  and  the  wife,  the  two  little  sons,  and 
the  daughter  of  the  councillor  Stalzenberg.  At  the 
seventh  of  these  recorded  burnings  the  victims  are  de¬ 
scribed  as  a  wandering  boy  twelve  years  of  age,  and 
four  strange  men  and  women.  Thirty  of  the  whole 
number  appear  to  have  been  vagrants  of  both  sexes. 
None  escaped.  All  fell  victims  to  the  insane  suspicions 
of  religious  paranoia  persecutoria. 

The  spirit  of  persecution  did  not  spare  even  the 
little  ones.  The  number  of  children  on  the  list  is  great. 
The  thirteenth  and  the  fourteenth  burnings  comprise 
a  little  girl  of  nine,  another  child  (a  younger  sister), 
their  mother,  and  their  aunt,  a  pretty  young  woman  of 
twenty-four.  At  the  eighteenth  burning  the  victims 
were  two  boys  of  twelve  and  a  girl  of  fifteen.  At 
the  nineteenth,  the  young  heir  of  Rotenhahn,  aged 
nine,  and  two  other  boys,  one  aged  ten  and  the  other 
twelve.  Whoever  had  the  misfortune  of  falling  under 
the  suspicion  of  practising  witchcraft,  of  dealing  with 
spirits,  was  lost.  Nothing  could  save  him  from  the 
homicidal  fury  of  religious  demonophobia. 

So  acute  was  the  malady  of  demonophobia  that 
nonsensical  jargon  uttered  by  poor  crazed  creatures 
scared  people  out  of  their  wits.  Thus  at  Amsterdam 
a  crazy  girl  confessed  that  she  could  cause  sterility  in 
cattle  and  bewitch  pigs  and  poultry  by  merely  repeat¬ 
ing  the  magic  words  Turius  und  Shurius  Inturius. 
She  was  hanged  and  burned.  One  insane  person  was 
condemned  to  the  stake  by  the  magistrate  of  W iirzburg 
for  uttering  the  following  formula : 

Lalle,  Bachera,  Magatte,  Baphia,  Dajam, 

Yagath  Heneche  Ammi  Nagaz,  Adamator, 

Raphael  Immanuel  Christus,  Tetragrammaton, 

Agra  Jad  Loi.  Konig  1  Konisr  1 


342 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  SUGGESTION. 


People  were  condemned  to  the  flames  for  pronounc¬ 
ing  meaningless  words,  such  as 

Anion,  Lalle,  Sabalos,  Aado,  Pater,  Aziel, 

Adonai  Sado  Vagotk  Agra,  Jad, 

Baphra  !  Komm  !  Komm  ! 

It  was  considered  an  unpardonable  sin,  a  heinous 
crime  that  could  only  be  expiated  by  the  auto-da-fe ,  to 
repeat  the  following  gibberish  : 

Zellianelle  Heotti  Bonus  Yagotha, 

Plisos  Sother  osech  unicus  Beelzebub, 

Dox  !  Comm  !  Comm  !  * 

The  wave  of  the  epidemic  ran  so  high  that  even 
little  children  who  in  their  play  happened  to  repeat 
those  awful  incantations  were  seized  by  the  authorities, 
tried  for  witchcraft,  found  guilty,  and  condemned  to 
the  flames. 

On  American  ground  we  find  the  same  malady  of 
demonophobia  blazing  up  in  the  celebrated  trials  of 
Salem  witchcraft.  On  the  accusation  of  a  few  hyster¬ 
ical  girls, f  twenty  innocent  people  were  condemned  to 
death.  Some  were  hanged,  and  others  suffered  a  hor¬ 
rible  end  under  the  crushing  pressure  of  heavy  weights. 

One  can  hardly  find  on  the  records  of  human 
crimes  anything  more  disgusting,  more  infamous,  than 
this  insane  systematic  persecution  of  feeble  women  and 
tender  children. 

»  '»  ■  — — — —  . -  - ■  —  — ■» 

\ 

*  Charles  Mackay,  Memoirs. 

f  Upham,  On  Witchcraft.  Drake,  Annals  of  Witchcraft. 


CHAPTEK  XXXII. 


FINANCIAL  CRAZES. 

If  from  the  horrors  of  demonophobia  we  turn  to 
the  market  place,  to  the  world  of  business  and  finances, 
we  are  once  more  impressed  by  the  extreme  suggesti¬ 
bility  characteristic  of  the  social  spirit.  The  enthusi¬ 
asm  of  speculative  mania  and  the  abject  fear  of  finan¬ 
cial  panics  are  epidemical.  Men  think  in  crowds,  and 
go  mad  in  herds.  The  tulipomania  of  the  Dutch,  the 
Mississippi  scheme  of  the  French,  the  South  Sea  bub¬ 
ble  of  the  English,  the  financial  epidemics  and  business 
panics  of  our  own  time,  may  serve  as  good  illustrations. 

About  the  year  1634  the  Dutch  became  suddenly 
possessed  with  a  mania  for  tulips.  The  ordinary  in¬ 
dustry  of  the  country  was  neglected,  and  the  popula¬ 
tion,  even  to  its  lowest  dregs,  embarked  in  the  tulip 
trade.  The  tulip  rapidly  rose  in  value,  and  when  the 
mania  was  in  full  swing  some  daring  speculators  in¬ 
vested  as  much  as  100,000  florins  in  the  purchase  of 
forty  roots.  The  bulbs  were  as  precious  as  diamonds; 
they  were  sold  by  their  weight  in  perits ,  a  weight  less 
than  a  grain.  A  tulip  of  the  species  called  Admiral 
Liefken  weighing  400  perits  was  worth  4,400  florins ; 
an  Admiral  Yon  der  Eyck  weighing  446  perits  was 
worth  1,260  florins ;  a  Cliilder  of  106  perits  was  worth 
1,615  florins  ;  a  Viceroy  of  400  perits,  3,000  florins ;  and 
23  343 


344 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  SUGGESTION. 


a  Semper  Augustus  weighing  200  perits  was  thought  to 
be  very  cheap  at  5,500  florins.* 

An  insane  mania  of  speculating  in  tulips  seized 
upon  the  minds  of  the  Dutch.  Regular  marts  for  the 
sale  of  roots  were  established  in  all  the  large  towns  of 
Holland — in  Amsterdam,  Rotterdam,  Haarlem,  Leyden, 
Alkmaar.  The  stock  jobbers  dealt  largely  in  tulips, 
and  their  profits  were  enormous.  Many  speculators 
grew  suddenly  rich.  The  epidemic  of  tulipomania 
raged  with  intense  fury,  the  enthusiasm  of  speculation 
filled  every  heart,  and  confidence  was  at  its  height.  A 
golden  bait  hung  temptingly  out  before  the  people,  and 
one  after  the  other  they  rushed  to  the  tulip  marts,  like 
flies  around  a  honey  pot.  Every  one  imagined  that  the 
passion  for  tulips  would  last  forever,  and  that  the 
wealthy  from  every  part  of  the  world  would  send  to 
Holland  and  pay  whatever  prices  were  asked  for  them. 
The  riches  of  Europe  would  be  concentrated  on  the 
shores  of  the  Zuyder  Zee.  Robles,  citizens,  farmers, 
mechanics,  seamen,  footmen,  maid  servants,  chimney¬ 
sweeps,  and  old-clothes  women  dabbled  in  tulips. 
Houses  and  lands  were  offered  for  sale  at  ruinous¬ 
ly  low  prices,  or  assigned  in  payment  of  bargains 
made  at  the  tulip  market.  So  contagious  was  the 
epidemic  that  foreigners  became  smitten  with  the 
same  frenzy  and  money  poured  into  Holland  from  all 
directions. 

This  speculative  mania  did  not  last  long ;  social  sug¬ 
gestion  began  to  work  in  the  opposite  direction,  and  a 
universal  panic  suddenly  seized  on  the  minds  of  the 
Dutch.  Instead  of  buying,  every  one  was  trying  to  sell. 
Tulips  fell  below  their  normal  value.  Thousands  of 


*  Mackay,  Memoirs, 


FINANCIAL  CRAZES. 


345 


merchants  were  utterly  ruined,  and  a  cry  of  lamenta¬ 
tion  rose  in  the  land. 

About  the  year  1717  a  maniacal  enthusiasm  of 
speculation  seized  on  the  French  mind.  John  Law,  a 
sharp  Scotchman,  was  authorized  by  the  Regent  of 
France  to  establish  a  company  with  the  exclusive  privi¬ 
lege  of  trading  on  the  western  bank  of  the  Mississippi. 
Expectation  rose  on  all  sides,  and  thousands  of  people 
hastened  to  invest  their  capital,  which  was  to  be  raised 
with  unheard-of  profits  on  the  water  of  that  great 
river.  With  a  large  fund  in  hand  and  with  prospects 
of  getting  an  unlimited  supply  of  money,  the  Missis¬ 
sippi  Company  extended  the  range  of  its  visionary 
speculation. 

In  the  year  1719  an  edict  was  published  granting 
to  the  Mississippi  Company  the  exclusive  privilege  of 
trading  to  the  East  Indies  and  the  South  Seas.  The 
prospects  of  profit  were  glorious.  John  Law,  the  pro¬ 
jector,  the  ringleader  of  the  epidemic,  promised  a 
profit  of  about  one  hundred  and  twenty  per  cent ! 

The  enthusiasm  of  the  French  nation  knew  no 
bounds.  Three  hundred  thousand  applications  were 
made  for  the  fifty  thousand  new  shares  issued  by  the 
company,  and  Law’s  house  was  beset  from  morning  to 
night  by  mobs  of  applicants. 

The  eagerness  to  be  on  the  list  of  the  stockholders 
rose  to  a  pitch  of  frenzy.  Dukes,  marquises,  counts, 
with  their  duchesses,  marchionesses,  and  countesses, 
waited  in  the  streets  for  hours  every  day  to  know  the 
result.  Every  day  the  value  of  the  shares  increased, 
and  fresh  applications  became  so  numerous  that  it  was 
deemed  advisable  to  create  no  less  than  three  hundred 
thousand  new  shares  at  five  thousand  livres  each,  in 
order  that  the  regent  might  take  advantage  of  the  popu- 


346 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  SUGGESTION. 


lar  enthusiasm  to  pay  off  the  national  debt.  For  this 
purpose  the  sum  of  fifteen  hundred  million  livres  was 
necessary.  Such  was  the  eagerness  of  the  nation  that 
thrice  the  sum  would  have  been  subscribed  if  the  Gov¬ 
ernment  had  authorized  it. 

The  tide  of  speculative  mania  rose  higher  and 
higher.  The  French  were  seized  with  an  insatiable 
greed  for  speculation.  There  was  not  a  person  of  note 
among  the  aristocracy  who  was  not  engaged  in  buying 
and  selling  stock.  People  of  every  age  and  sex  and 
condition  in  life  speculated  in  the  rise  and  fall  of  Mis¬ 
sissippi  bonds.  The  street  where  the  jobbers  met  was 
thronged  with  multitudes  of  people,  and  accidents  fre¬ 
quently  occurred  there  on  account  of  the  great  pressure 
of  the  crowd.  Houses  round  the  resort  of  speculation 
— houses  worth  in  ordinary  times  a  thousand  livres  of 
yearly  rent — yielded  as  much  as  twelve  or  sixteen 
thousand.  A  cobbler  who  had  a  stall  in  that  street 
gained  about  two  hundred  livres  a  day  by  letting 
it  out  and  furnishing  writing  materials  to  brokers 
and  their  clients.  The  story  goes  that  a  hunchback 
who  stood  in  the  street  gained  considerable  sums  by 
lending  his  hump  as  a  writing  desk  to  the  eager  specu¬ 
lators.* 

A  spirit  of  furious  speculation  took  possession  of  the 
French  mind  to  such  a  degree  that  thousands  abandoned 
resorts  of  pleasure  to  join  the  orgies  of  gambling  in 
Mississippi  bonds.  The  whole  nation  was  in  a  trance ; 
it  was  intoxicated  with  the  hopes  and  expectations  of 
enormous  gains,  nay — with  actual  realization  of  great 
treasures.  The  French,  however,  soon  woke  up  from 
their  trance  with  a  cry  of  distress;  the  Mississippi 


*  Mackay,  Memoirs. 


FINANCIAL  CRAZES.  ■  347 

bubble  burst,  and  thousands  of  speculators  were  ruined 
and  reduced  to  poverty  and  misery. 

In  the  year  1720  a  fever  of  speculation  seized  on 
the  English  mind.  The  South  Sea  Company,  in  order 
to  raise  the  value  of  its  stock,  spread  fanciful  rumours 
that  all  the  Spanish  colonies  would  soon  be  granted 
free  trade,  and  then  the  rich  product  of  Potosi  would  be 
poured  into  the  lap  of  the  English.  Silver  and  gold 
would  be  as  plentiful  as  iron.  England  would  become 
the  wealthiest  country  in  the  world,  and  the  richest 
company  in  England  would  be  the  South  Sea  Com¬ 
pany  ;  every  hundred  pounds  invested  in  it  would  pro¬ 
duce  hundreds  per  annum. 

Strange  to  say,  people  believed  in  all  those  fables, 
and  bought  shares  and  speculated  recklessly.  Business 
men  were  in  a  high  fever  of  excitement.  They  aban¬ 
doned  their  trades  and  turned  to  speculation.  For  a 
time  it  looked  as  if  the  whole  nation  turned  stock  job¬ 
bers.  Exchange  Alley  was  blocked  up  by  crowds. 
Everybody  came  to  purchase  stock.  “  Every  fool  as¬ 
pired  to  be  a  knave.”  The  epidemic  grew  in  vigour  and 
intensity ;  the  mania  for  speculation  became  more  acute. 
New  companies  with  schemes  of  the  most  extravagant 
and  fanciful  nature  sprang  up  on  all  sides  like  mush¬ 
rooms.  The  share  lists  were  speedily  filled  up,  and  the 
shares  grew  on  wind  and  water.  Business  bubbles  were 
raised  on  all  sides,  and  people  were  sure  to  get  rich  on 
them. 

Yerily,  verily,  there  are  no  bounds  to  human  cre¬ 
dulity  and  folly.  People  invested  their  fortunes  in  such 
absurd  schemes  that  one  who  has  never  experienced 
the  fever  of  modern  speculation  can  hardly  realize  the 
state  of  the  public  mind.  Thus  one  of  the  projects 
that  received  great  encouragement  was  for  the  estab- 


348 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  SUGGESTION. 


lishment  of  a  company  “  to  make  deal  boards  out  of 
sawdust.”  One  project  was  more  absurd  than  the 
other:  “For  furnishing  funerals  to  any  part  of  Great 
Britain ”  ;  “ For  a  wheel  of  perpetual  motion ”  ;  “For 
extracting  silver  from  lead ”  ;  “For  the  transmutation 
of  quicksilver  into  a  malleable  fine  metal.”  Such  were 
the  nature  of  the  projects.  Some  bold  speculator 
started  “  A  company  for  carrying  on  an  undertaking  of 
great  advantage,  but  nobody  to  know  what  it  is.”  In 
his  prospectus  the  speculator  stated  that  the  required 
capital  was  half  a  million,  in  five  thousand  shares  of 
one  hundred  pounds  each ;  deposit,  two  pounds  per 
share.  Each  subscriber  paying  his  deposit  would  be 
entitled  to  one  hundred  pounds  per  share.*  “  Man  be¬ 
lieves  as  much  as  he  can,”  says  Prof.  James,  but  as  a 
gregarious  animal  man  believes  whatever  is  suggested 
to  him. 

The  waves  of  business  speculation  ran  higher  and 
higher,  and  along  with  it  rose  the  stock  of  the  South 
Sea  Company.  The  shares  rose  three  hundred  to  five 
hundred,  five  hundred  to  five  hundred  and  fifty,  and 
then  made  a  prodigious  leap  to  eight  hundred  and 
ninety,  and  finally  the  price  of  the  stock  rose  to  one 
thousand  per  cent !  The  bubble  was  full  blown  and 
burst.  People  began  to  sell  stock  to  realize  profit. 
The  stock  fell.  The  rush  for  selling  increased.  The 
stock  began  to  sink  rapidly.  The  fall  produced  an  alarm, 
a  panic ! 

The  course  of  speculation  epidemics  is  to  rise  to  the 
highest  point  of  heavenly  bliss,  and  then  to  fall  to  the 
lowest  depth  of  misery ;  to  pass  from  a  state  of  acute 
maniacal  exaltation  to  a  state  of  still  more  acute  melan- 


*  Mackay,  Memoirs. 


FINANCIAL  CRAZES. 


349 


cholic  depression.  The  course  of  the  speculation  epoch 
is  a  kind  of  social  folie  a  double  forme.  It  is  this  mod¬ 
ern  social  folie  a  double  forme  that  clearly  discloses  the 
extreme  suggestibility  of  gregarious  man. 

A  chronological  table  will  show  at  a  glance  the  un¬ 
interrupted  chain  of  European  epidemics : 


Pilgrimage  epidemic, 

1000  to  1095 

Crusade  epi¬ 

)  Eastern  and  Western  Crusades, 

j- 1095 

“  1270 

demic. 

)  Children’s  Crusade,  ] 

Flagellant  epidemic, 

1260 

“  1348 

Black  Death  and  Antisemitic  mania, 

1348 

Dancing 

mania. 

'  St.  John’s  dance, 

1374  '>  To  the  end  of 

St.  Vitus’  dance, 

1418 

v  the  fifteenth 

’  Tarantism, 

1470 

)  century. 
t  To  the  end  of 

Demonophobia,  or  witchcraft  mania, 

1488- 

<  seventeenth 

(  century. 

1 

r  Tulipomania, 

1634 

Speculative  J 

The  Mississippi  Scheme, 

1717 

mania. 

The  South  Sea  Bubble, 

1720 

! 

And  business  bubbles, 

To  our  own  times. 

CHAPTER  XXXIII. 


AMERICAN  MENTAL  EPIDEMICS. 

Turning  now  to  American  social  life,  so  radically 
different  from  that  of  the  middle  ages,  we  still  find 
the  same  phenomena  manifesting  themselves.  The  so¬ 
cial  spirit  runs  riot  in  mobs,  crazes,  manias,  pests, 
plagues,  and  epidemics. 

American  religious  epidemics  hallowed  by  the  name 
of  “  revivalism  ”  are  notorious.  A  Jonathan,  a  Mc- 
Gready,  a  Sankey,  or  a  Moody  is  stricken  by  the 
plague,  falls  into  a  delirium,  and  begins  to  rave  on 
religion.  The  contagion  spreads,  and  thousands  upon 
thousands  pray  wildly  in  churches  and  chapels,  rave 
furiously,  and  fall  into  convulsions  in  camp  meetings. 
A  revival  epidemic  has  come,  rages  violently  for  some 
time,  and  then  disappears  as  suddenly  as  it  came.  To 
take  a  few  instances  of  the  many  cases  of  revivals : 

In  1800  a  wave  of  religious  mania  passed  over  the 
country  and  reached  its  acme  in  the  famous  Kentucky 
revivals.  The  first  camp  meeting  was  held  at  Cabin 
Creek.  It  began  on  the  22d  of  May  and  continued 
four  days  and  three  nights.  The  crying,  the  singing, 
the  praying,  the  shouting,  the  falling  in  convulsions 
made  of  the  place  a  pandemonium.  Those  who  tried 
to  escape  were  either  compelled  to  return,  as  if  drawn 
by  some  mysterious  force,  or  were  struck  with  convul- 

350 


AMERICAN  MENTAL  EPIDEMICS. 


351 


sions  on  the  way.  The  pestilence  spread,  raging  with 
unabated  fury.  Families  came  in  wagons  from  great 
distances  to  attend  the  meetings.  The  camp  meetings 
generally  continued  four  days,  from  Friday  to  Tuesday 
morning,  but  sometimes  they  lasted  a  week.  One  suc¬ 
ceeded  another  in  rapid  succession.  The  woods  and 
paths  leading  to  the  camp  meeting  were  alive  with  peo¬ 
ple.  “  The  labourer,”  writes  Dr.  Davidson,*  “  quitted 
his  task;  age  snatched  his  crutch;  youth  forgot  his 
pastimes  ;  the  plough  was  left  in  the  furrow  ;  the  deer 
enjoyed  a  respite  upon  the  mountains ;  business  of  all 
kinds  was  suspended  ;  bold  hunters  and  sober  matrons, 
young  men,  maidens,  and  little  children  flocked  to  the 
common  centre  of  attraction.”  As  many  as  twenty 
thousand  people  were  present  at  one  of  these  meetings. 

The  general  meeting  at  Indian  Creek,  Harrison 
County,  continued  about  five  days.  The  meeting  was 
at  first  quiet.  The  suggestion,  however,  was  not  slow 
to  come,  and  this  time  it  was  given  by  a  child.  A  boy 
of  twelve  mounted  a  log  and  began  to  rave  violently. 
He  soon  attracted  the  main  body  of  the  people.  Over¬ 
come  by  the  power  of  emotions,  the  little  maniac  raised 
his  hands,  and,  dropping  his  handkerchief  wet  with 
tears  and  perspiration,  cried  out :  “  Thus,  O  sinner, 
shall  you  drop  into  hell  unless  you  forsake  your  sins 
and  turn  to  the  Lord  !  ”  At  that  moment  some  fell  to 
the  ground  “  like  those  who  are  shot  in  a  battle,  and  the 
work  spread  in  a  manner  which  human  language  can 
not  describe.”  Thousands  were  wriggling,  writhing, 
and  jerking  in  paroxysms  of  religious  fury.  So  viru¬ 
lent  was  the  revival  plague  that  mere  indifferent  look¬ 
ers-on,  even  mockers  and  sceptics,  were  infected  by  it, 


*  History  of  the  Presbyterian  Church  in  Kentucky. 


352 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OP  SUGGESTION. 


and  joined  the  exercises  of  the  raving  religious  maniacs 
and  fell  into  jerking  convulsions  of  religious  hysteria. 
The  following  case  may  serve  as  a  fair  example : 

“  A  gentleman  and  a  lady  of  some  note  in  the 
fashionable  world  were  attracted  to  the  camp  meeting 
at  Cone  Ridge.  They  indulged  in  many  contemptuous 
remarks  on  their  way  about  the  poor  infatuated  crea¬ 
tures  who  rolled  over  screaming  in  the  mud,  and  prom¬ 
ised  jestingly  to  stand  by  and  assist  each  other  in  case 
that  either  should  be  seized  with  the  convulsions. 
They  had  not  been  long  looking  upon  the  strange 
scene  before  them,  when  the  young  woman  lost  her 
consciousness  and  fell  to  the  ground.  Her  companion, 
forgetting  his  promise  of  protection,  instantly  forsook 
her  and  ran  off  at  the  top  of  his  speed.  But  flight 
afforded  him  no  safety.  Before  he  had  gone  two  hun¬ 
dred  yards  he,  too,  fell  down  in  convulsions.”  * 

In  many  places  the  religious  epidemic  took  the  form 
of  laughing,  dancing,  and  barking  or  dog  manias. 
"Whole  congregations  were  convulsed  with  hysterical 
laughter  during  holy  service.  In  the  wild  delirium  of 
religious  frenzy  people  took  to  dancing,  and  at  last  to 
barking  like  dogs.  They  assumed  the  posture  of  dogs, 
“  moving  about  on  all  fours,  growling,  snapping  the 
teeth,  and  barking  with  such  an  exactness  of  imitation 
as  to  deceive  any  one  whose  eyes  were  not  directed  to 
the  spot,  f  JSTor  were  the  people  wTho  suffered  so  morti¬ 
fying  a  transformation  always  of  the  vulgar  classes ; 
persons  of  the  highest  rank  in  society,  on  the  contrary, 
men  and  women  of  cultivated  minds  and  polite  manners, 
found  themselves  by  sympathy  reduced  to  this  degrad- 


*  Gospel  Herald.  Prof.  D.  W.  Yandell,  Epidemic  Convulsions 
Brain,  October,  1881.  f  McNemar. 


AMERICAN  MENTAL  EPIDEMICS.  353 

* 

ing  situation.”  *  The  baneful  poison  of  religious  re¬ 
vivalism  turns  its  victims  into  packs  of  mad  dogs. 

In  1815  a  religious  revival  swept  over  the  country, 
and  ended  in  the  excesses  of  camp  meetings. 

In  1832  a  great  revival  epidemic  raged  fiercely  in 
this  country.  An  excellent  description  of  this  revival 
is  given  by  Mr.  Albert  S.  Rhodes.f  I  give  his  account 
verbatim : 

“  What  is  usually  called  ‘  the  Great  American  Re¬ 
vival  ’  began  simultaneously  in  Hew  Haven  and  Hew 
York  in  1832,  and  does  not  seem  to  have  been  set  in 
motion  by  any  particular  individual  or  individuals,  but 
to  have  been  in  a  full  sense  a  popular  expression.  It 
was  in  men’s  minds  and  in  the  atmosphere.  It  broke 
out  and  raged  like  a  fire  over  a  certain  portion  of  the 
country  known  by  the  old  inhabitants  as  the  6  burnt 
district.’  It  was  especially  felt  along  the  shore  of  Lake 
Ontario  and  in  the  counties  of  Madison  and  Oneida. 

“  The  host  that  marched  in  this  revival  movement 
had  many  banners,  but  were  without  known  chieftains. 
.  .  .  The  corporals  and  sergeants  who  marched  with 
the  uprising  were  men  of  mediocrity  (unknown  heroes 
of  mobs).  These  did  not  make  the  revival,  but  it 
made  them.  They  were  of  various  religious  colours, 
and  formed  a  motley  group  gathered  from  the  Wes¬ 
leyan  Methodists,  Episcopal  Methodists,  Evangelists, 
Independents,  Congregationalists,  and  Presbyterians. 

“  The  characteristic  signs  [of  revivalism]  attended  this 
spiritual  tempest.  Ballrooms  were  turned  into  places 
of  prayer  and  theatres  into  churches.  .  .  .  Clergymen 
who  reasoned  logically  were  told  that  they  held  the 


*  Prof.  D.  W.  Yandell,  Brain,  October,  1881. 
f  Appleton’s  Journal,  December  11,  1875. 


354 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  SUGGESTION. 


sponge  of  vinegar  to  the  parched  lips  of  sinners,  instead 
of  leading  them  to  the  brook  of  life  where  they  might 
drink  to  completion.  They  met  with  the  treatment 
usual  in  such  popular  upheavals — they  were  pushed 
aside  to  make  room  for  the  new  expounders  and  proph¬ 
ets,  ignorant  men  full  of  faith  and  vociferation,  who 
preached  night  and  day  the  golden  streets  of  the  New 
Jerusalem  and  the  wrath  to  come. 

44  The  apple  of  Sodom  grew  out  of  this  religious 
mania;  the  followers  soon  became  incapable  of  sin.* 
...  4  And  when  a  man  becomes  conscious  that  his  soul 
is  saved,’  proclaimed  one  of  their  spiritual  leaders,  4  the 
first  thing  that  he  sets  about  is  to  find  his  paradise  and 
his  Eve.’  The  leaders  could  not  find  paradises  in  their 
own  homes,  nor  Eves  in  their  own  wives,  and  sought 
their  4  affinities  ’  elsewhere.  One  of  their  leaders  had  a 
vision  of  an  immense  throng  of  men  and  women  in 
heaven  who  wandered  hither  and  thither  in  search  of 
something  necessary  to  their  happiness  with  an  expres¬ 
sion  of  longing  depicted  on  their  faces.  The  men  hunted 
for  wives,  as  women  did  for  men.  The  spirit  of  yearn¬ 
ing  for  an  incomplete  joy  was  everywhere  visible  in 
these  great  hosts.  The  seer  gave  an  interpretation  of 
his  vision  that  men  and  women  were  wrongly  yoked  on 


*  The  sense  of  guilt  and  that  of  regeneration  and  elevation  after 
conversion  are  good  symptoms  of  revival  mania.  Mr.  D.  Starbuck, 
to  whom  my  thanks  are  due  for  placing  at  my  disposal  his  rich  ma¬ 
terial  on  religious  conversion,  in  his  article  “  A  Study  of  Conver¬ 
sion  ”  (The  American  Journal  of  Psychology,  January,  1897),  comes 
to  the  conclusion  that  “  revival  meetings  play  an  important  part  in 
conversion,”  and  that  “  the  sense  of  sin  ”  and  “  the  sense  of  eleva¬ 
tion”  are  its  main  characteristics.  What  Mr.  Starbuck  does  not 
realize  is  the  fact  that  it  is  not  healthy  normal  life  that  one  studies 
in  sudden  religious  conversions,  but  the  phenomena  of  revival  in¬ 
sanity. 


AMERICAN  MENTAL  EPIDEMICS. 


355 


this  earth,  and  that  this  may  be  remedied  by  a  proper 
and  spiritual  union  in  the  terrestrial  sphere.  The  in¬ 
terpretation  was  received  with  favour,  and  even  with 
enthusiasm.  The  man  who  saw  the  vision  set  the  ex¬ 
ample  by  putting  his  legitimate  wife  aside  and  taking 
to  his  bosom  the  comely  wife  of  one  of  his  brethren. 
Others  quickly  followed  the  example.  .  .  .  The  union 
was  popularly  designated  among  them  as  spiritual  wed¬ 
lock.  .  .  .  Old  ties  were  given  up.  The  kingdom  of 
heaven  was  at  hand.  Old  rules  were  no  longer  binding, 
and  old  obligations  were  set  aside.  Men  and  women, 
regardless  of  marital  ties,  selected  their  celestial  com¬ 
panions. 

“  At  first  such  unions  were  to  be  of  purely  spiritual 
character,  but,  of  course,  in  the  end  became  sexual.  .  .  . 
Before  long  the  spiritual  union  was  found  to  be  incom¬ 
plete,  and  it  assumed  the  ordinary  character  of  that 
which  exists  between  man  and  woman  who  live  to¬ 
gether  in  close  intimacy.  Men  who  lived  with  the 
wives  of  others,  and  women  who  lived  with  the  hus¬ 
bands  of  others,  produced  a  strange  confusion.  .  .  . 
Children  were  abandoned  by  their  natural  protectors. 

“  It  resulted  in  evil  still  worse.  Men  and  women 
discovered  that  they  had  made  mistakes  in  their  spiritual 
unions,  and,  after  having  lived  for  a  certain  period  to¬ 
gether,  they  separated  to  make  new  selections.  It  soon 
came  to  pass  that  they  made  new  selections  in  com¬ 
paratively  short  periods  of  time,  and  the  doctrine  of 
spiritual  affinity  thus  inevitably  merged  into  gross 
licentiousness. 

u  If  the  facts  were  not  before  us,  some  of  the  unions 
would  appear  incredible.  These  were  what  the  French 
would  call  mariages  a  irois.  The  lawful  husband  and 
the  spiritual  one  lived  under  the  same  roof,  in  some 


356 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  SUGGESTION. 


cases  with  the  same  wife,  who  denied  all  conjugal  rights 
to  the  husband  in  law,  and  accorded  them  freely  to  the 
husband  in  spirit ;  and  there  are  remarkable  instances 
furnished  of  the  husbands  submitting  to  such  a  state  of 
things  as  being  in  accordance  with  the  divine  will.  And 
such  examples  of  degradation,  according  to  the  annals  of 
the  time,  do  not  appear  to  have  been  rare. 

“  Such  were  some  of  the  results  which  the  revival 
of  1832  left  behind  in  the  k  burnt  district.’  .  .  .  Such 
was  the  revival  in  its  moral  aspect .  It  had  still  a  phys¬ 
ical  and  mental  side,  which  was  worse  to  contemplate, 
in  the  number  of  deluded  people  who  were  placed  in 
the  hospitals  and  insane  asylums.” 

About  the  year  1840  the  so-called  “Miller  mania” 
broke  out.*  “This  delusion  originated  in  the  read¬ 
ings,  reflections,  and -dreams  of  one  William  Miller,  of 
the  State  of  ISTew  York,  who  came  to  know  about  the 
year  1840  at  what  time  i  the  Lord  was  to  appear  in  the 
heavens’  and  the  end  of  all  things  to  come.  He  soon 
found  adherents — as  will  the  author  of  any  ‘  humbug,’ 
however  palpable — who  with  a  zeal  worthy  of  a  better 
cause  set  themselves  to  proselyting.  They  went  abroad 
preaching  their  doctrine  to  all  who  would  hear,  and 
publishing  their  views  to  the  world  through  periodicals 
and  newspapers.  ...  At  the  outset  they  pitched  not 
only  upon  the  year,  but  the  day  and  hour  on  which  the 
‘  Son  of  Man  should  come  with  power  and  great  glory.’ 
A  doctrine  like  this,  solemn  and  momentous  beyond 
expression,  spread  abroad  with  all  the  rapidity  that 
novelty  could  lend  to  it ;  the  zeal  of  its  adherents  .  .  . 
soon  collected  around  its  standard  throngs  of  men  and 
women  who  hugged  the  delusion  as  the  announcement 


*  Esquirol,  Mental  Maladies,  English  translation. 


AMERICAN  MENTAL  EPIDEMICS. 


357 


of  great  events,  and  the  support  of  raptures  and  glori¬ 
ous  ecstasies. 

“  The  beggarly  amount  of  intellect  with  which  its  de¬ 
luded  followers  were  possessed  soon  yielded  to  the  farce 
of  religious  excitement,  and  long  before  ‘the  time 
drew  near  when  they  were  to  be  received  up  ’  they  for¬ 
sook  their  respective  callings,  closed  their  shops  and 
stores,  left  their  families  to  suffer,  or  abandoned  them 
to  the  cold  charities  of  the  world,  attending  meetings 
for  prayers  and  exhortations,  ‘  rendering  night  hideous 
by  their  screams 5  and  by  ceaseless  prayers  and  watch¬ 
ings,  intending  to  open  in  ‘the  great  day  of  the 
Lord.’ 

“  The  excitement,  of  which  the  above  brief  presen¬ 
tation  furnishes  by  no  means  an  exaggerated  description, 
soon  began  to  produce  its  effects  upon  both  the  bodies 
and  minds  of  these  wretched  beings.  A  pale  and  hag¬ 
gard  countenance,  indicative  at  once  of  physical  exhaus¬ 
tion  and  great  mental  solicitude,  strange  and  erroneous 
views  in  reference  to  their  worldly  relations  and  affairs, 
together  with  their  conduct,  which  showed  that  the  con¬ 
trolling  power  of  reason  was  swallowed  up  in  the  great 
maelstrom  of  Millerism — all  indicated  the  shock  which 
had  been  produced  by  the  terrors  of  this  fearful  delu¬ 
sion.  As  the  time  for  the  great  denouement  approached 
meetings  increased,  their  prayers  were  heard  far  and 
wide  around  ;  converts  were  multiplied  ;  baptisms  were 
celebrated,  not  by  sprinkling,  but  by  immersions  which 
lasted  sometimes  longer  than  life.  The  gift  of  tongues 
was  vouchsafed,  ascension  robes  of  snowy  whiteness 
were  made  ready,  property  was  freely  given  away,  and 
on  the  morning  of  ‘  the  great  day,’  with  hearts  pre¬ 
pared,  and  decked  in  robes  of  peerless  white,  they  went 
forth  to  meet  the  ‘  bridegroom.’  Some,  not  content  to 


358 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  SUGGESTION. 


meet  him  upon  earth,  actually  ascended  trees  in  order 
first  to  greet  his  approach. 

“The  day  first  announced  passed  off  quietly.  .  .  . 
Great  was  the  disappointment  of  the  followers  of  the 
doctrine  of  Miller.  Their  time  for  weeks  and  months 
had  been  lost,  their  business  broken  up,  and  their  prop¬ 
erty  gone.  Yet,  to  exhibit,  as  it  were,  still  more  forci¬ 
bly  the  strength  of  religious  fanaticism  (religious  sug¬ 
gestion)  operating  upon  (weak)  minds,  they  still  clung 
to  their  delusion,  again  4  searched  the  Scriptures,’  and 
happily  found  that  they  had  been  in  error.  It  was  on 
a  certain  day  and  hour  of  the  Jewish  year  1844  on 
which  their  calculation  should  have  been  based,  in¬ 
stead  of  the  corresponding  year  of  our  calendar.  The 
joyful  news  was  spread  abroad  throughout  the  realms 
of  Millerism,  and  the  zeal  and  fervour  of  the  followers 
rose  higher  than  before. 

44  Meanwhile  institutions  for  the  insane  were  daily 
furnishing  new  proofs  of  the  mental  ravages  Millerism 
was  producing  throughout  the  country.  Miller  maniacs 
were  almost  daily  brought  to  the  doors  of  the  insane 
asylums.  Worn  out  and  exhausted  by  ceaseless  reli¬ 
gious  orgies,  many  broke  down  completely  and  be¬ 
came  hopelessly  insane.  Some  were  already  in  heaven, 
clothed  with  the  new  bodies  provided  for  the  saints ; 
others,  like  spectres,  were  hastening  to  convert  to  the 
same  faith  their  fellow-victims  to  disease ;  while  a  third 
class  refused  to  eat,  having  no  further  need  of  other 
than  4  angels’  food.’  So  strictly  did  many  of  the  be¬ 
lievers  adhere  to  the  cherished  passages  of  the  sacred 
Scriptures  that  they  declined  to  go  abroad  to  respond 
to  the  calls  of  Nature,  because,  forsooth,  we  were  com¬ 
manded  4  to  become  as  little  children,’  and  hence  soiled 
their  underdresses.  None  slept,  or  slept  but  little;  all 


AMERICAN  MENTAL  EPIDEMICS. 


359 


were  waiting,  waiting  in  obedience  to  a  divine  com¬ 
mand.  .  .  .  Sleep,  in  fact,  was  far  from  their  eyes  in  con¬ 
sequence  of  the  long-continued  watchfulness  which  had 
been  imposed.  They  had  passed  the  point  of  sleep ; 
some  of  them  even  passed  the  rallying  point  of  ex¬ 
hausted  nature,  and  sank  to  rise  no  more.  Scores  of 
the  victims  to  this  modem  delusion  (epidemic)  were 
known  by  all  to  be  the  tenants  of  madhouses,  and  it 
was  promulgated  far  and  wide  by  the  most  respectful 
authorities  that  this  was  a  legitimate  result  of  their  mis¬ 
guided  views  and  acts,  yet  it  fell  unheeded  upon  the 
ears  of  those  for  whom  in  kindness  it  was  designed. 

Meanwhile  the  period  approached  when  the  correct¬ 
ness  of  their  last  reckoning  was  to  be  verified.  ...  If 
possible,  a  more  firm  conviction  of  the  truth  of  Miller- 
ism  existed  in  the  minds  of  its  followers  generally  than 
before  ;  converts  to  it  had  increased,  and  all  the  ele¬ 
ments  of  prodigious  and  extended  commotion  were  con¬ 
centrating  preparatory  to  this  event.  The  scenes  which 
were  enacted  in  view  of  the  fulfillment  of  this  second 
interpretation  greatly  exceeded  the  first.  Like  the  first, 
it  proved  to  be  a  baseless  fabric  of  a  vision.  .  .  .  The  epi¬ 
demic,  however,  did  not  abate.  The  Cry  of  November 
22,  1844,  announced  the  fact  that  ‘  our  brethren  and 
sisters  are  not  only  strong,  but  much  stronger  than  ever. 
Our  brethren  are  all  standing  fast,  expecting  the  Lord 
every  day.’  ” 

Well  may  President  Jordan,  of  Stanford  University, 
exclaim  :  “  Whisky,  cocaine,  and  alcohol  bring  tempo¬ 
rary  insanity,  and  so  does  a  revival  of  religion — one  of 
those  religious  revivals  in  which  men  lose  their  reason 
and  self-control.  This  is  simply  a  form  of  drunkenness 
no  more  worthy  of  respect  than  the  drunkenness  that  lies 

in  the  gutter.”  Prof.  Jordan  was  attacked  on  all  sides 
24 


360 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  SUGGESTION. 


by  the  small  fry  of  the  pulpits.  But  Prof.  Jordan 
was,  in  fact,  too  mild  in  his  expression.  Religious  re¬ 
vivalism  is  a  social  bane,  it  is  far  more  dangerous  to  the 
life  of  society  than  drunkenness.  As  a  sot,  man  falls 
below  the  brute ;  as  a  revivalist,  he  sinks  lower  than 
the  sot. 

In  1857-’58  a  great  industrial  panic  occurred  in  this 
country.  Business  was  pressed  to  its  utmost  limits. 
The  greed  of  gain  became  a  veritable  mania.  Com¬ 
mercial  centres,  cities,  towns  large  and  small,  and  even 
villages  were  possessed  by  the  demon  of  financial  spec¬ 
ulation.  Speculation  rose  to  a  fever  heat ;  the  wildest 
projects  were  readily  undertaken  by  the  credulous  busi¬ 
ness  public.  Finally  the  crash  came.  Social  sugges¬ 
tion  began  to  work  the  other  way,  and  the  stream  of 
business  life  turned  in  the  opposite  direction.  Every 
one  ran  for  his  life,  not  so  much  because  he  perceived 
danger,  but  simply  because  he  saw  his  neighbours  run¬ 
ning — a  stampede,  a  panic,  ensued. 

In  this  morbid  condition  of  the  body  politic  the 
toxic  germs  of  religious  mania,  the  poisonous  microbes 
of  the  revival  pest,  once  more  found  a  favourable  soil. 
A  fierce  religious  epidemic  set  on  and  spread  far  and 
wide.  The  religious  journals  of  the  country  gloried 
in  it.  “  Such  a  time  as  the  present,”  writes  trium¬ 
phantly  one  of  them,*  “  was  never  known  since  the  days 
of  the  apostles  for  revivals.  Revivals  now  cover  our 
very  land,  sweeping  all  before  them.  .  .  .  Meetings  are 
held  for  prayer,  for  exhortation,  with  the  deepest  inter¬ 
est  and  the  most  astonishing  results.  Hot  only  are 
they  held  in  the  church  and  from  house  to  house,  but 


*  H.  C.  Fish,  Handbook  of  Revivals.  For  the  use  of  Winners 
of  Souls. 


AMERICAN  MENTAL  EPIDEMICS. 


361 


in  the  great  marts  of  trade  and  centres  of  business.  In 
Hew  York  there  is  a  most  astonishing  interest  in  all 
the  churches,  seeming  as  if  that  great  and  populous 
and  depraved  city  was  enveloped  in  one  conflagration 
of  divine  influence.  .  .  .  Prayer  and  conference  meet¬ 
ings  are  held  in  retired  rooms  connected  with  large 
commercial  houses,  and  with  the  best  effects  (!).  The 
large  cities  and  towns  generally  from  Maine  to  Cali¬ 
fornia  are  sharing  in  this  great  and  glorious  work.” 

A  Boston  journalist  caught  a  glimpse  of  the  true 
nature  of  this  religious  revival.  “  For  the  last  three 
months,”  he  writes,  “  a  revival  of  religion  has  spread 
like  an  epidemic  over  a  wide  extent  of  the  country. 
Prayer  meetings  noon  and  night ;  prayer  meetings  in 
Boston,  Hew  York,  Philadelphia,  Chicago ;  prayer 
meetings  in  Richmond,  Charleston,  Mobile,  Hew  Or¬ 
leans;  prayer  meetings  in  town,  village,  hamlet,  Horth 
and  South,  crowded  with  expectant  listeners  and  ac¬ 
companied  with  a  copious  outpouring  of  the  Divine 
Spirit.  The  whole  thing  is  emotional  contagion  with¬ 
out  principle.” 

This  religious  revival  then  spread  to  Ireland,  where 
it  raged  with  as  great  a  fury  as  in  its  native  place,  the 
United  States,  the  country  of  the  revival  plague. 

“  I  am  unwilling  to  give  the  details,”  writes  Rev.  J. 
Llewelyn  Davies,*  “  of  the  kinds  of  affection  which 
have  prevailed.  They  are  painful,  and  in  many  cases, 
to  speak  frankly,  simply  disgusting.  The  attacks  have 
so  far  the  character  of  an  epidemic  that  they  have  had 
a  singular  resemblance  to  one  another.  The  prevailing 
symptoms  have  been  a  state  of  perfect  physical  help¬ 
lessness  beneath  an  overwhelming  sense  of  guilt  and 


*  Macmillan,  vol.  i,  March,  1860. 


362 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  SUGGESTION. 


danger;  .  .  .  sudden  prostrations,  shrieks  and  cries, 
cataleptic  rigidity,  oppression  at  the  heart  and  stomach, 
in  some  cases  temporary  blindness,  deafness,  and  numb¬ 
ness.” 

American  society  oscillates  between  acute  financial 
mania  and  attacks  of  religious  insanity.  No  sooner  is 
the  business  fever  over  than  the  delirium  acutum 
of  religious  mania  sets  in.  Society  is  thrown  from 
Scylla  into  Chary bdis.  From  the  heights  of  finan¬ 
cial  speculation  it  sinks  into  the  abyss  of  revival¬ 
ism.  American  society  seems  to  suffer  from  circula/r 
insanity . 

The  friends  of  revivalism  are  not  unaware  of  this 
fact.  Thus  Rev.  H.  C.  Fish,  who  made  a  text-book  of 
revivalism,  naively  tells  us :  “  It  is  an  interesting  fact 
that  they  [revivals]  frequently  succeed  some  great 
[public]  calamity,  a  prevailing  epidemic,  or  financial 
embarrassment.”  The  germs  of  religious  insanity  re¬ 
quire  for  their  development  a  diseased  and  exhausted 
body  politic . 

Women  in  general,  and  American  women  in  par¬ 
ticular,  are  highly  suggestible.*  The  woman’s  crusade 

*  I  take  here  the  opportunity  to  mention  the  interesting  fact  of 
revivalism  among  the  American  Jewish  women.  The  revival  of  an¬ 
cient  Jewish  customs  and  the  separation  from  the  Gentile  world  are 
among  the  aims  of  this  religious  mania.  “  Those  who  take  part  in 
this  revival,”  a  well-known  rabbi  informs  me,  “  consider  themselves 
superior  to  other  women.”  This  sense  of  superiority  of  those  who 
were  “  saved  ”  is  a  well-marked  symptom  of  the  revival  plague. 
The  germs  of  this  epidemic  seem  to  be  very  active.  Although  they 
started  their  career  in  Chicago,  at  the  World’s  Fair,  in  the  year  of 
our  Lord  1893,  they  have  invaded  nearly  every  city  of  the  United 
States.  Rich  Jewish  ladies  form  the  main  body  of  victims ;  they 
are  very  susceptible  to  this  religious  disease.  The  interesting  pe¬ 
culiarity  of  this  Jewish  revival  plague  is  that  it  attacks  only  women 
and  rabbis. 


AMERICAN  MENTAL  EPIDEMICS. 


363 


of  1873  may  serve  as  a  good  illustration.*  The  crusade 
commenced  in  Hillsborough,  Ohio,  on  a  Christmas 
morning.  After  a  lecture  by  Dr.  Dio  Lewis  on  the 
Potency  of  Woman’s  Prayer  in  the  Grogshop,  the 
response  was  general.  A  meeting  for  prayer  and 
organization  was  held,  the  women,  led  by  a  distin¬ 
guished  Methodist  lady,  the  heroine  of  the  mob, 
marched  forth  on  their  first  visit  to  drug  stores,  hotels, 
and  saloons.  The  crusade  mania,  like  a  true  epidemic, 
spread  rapidly  into  adjacent  towns,  the  women  visiting 
saloons,  preaching,  singing,  and  praying.  Ladies  of  all 
denominations  joined  the  crusade.  Heither  threats  nor 
harsh  treatment  nor  rough  weather  could  check  the 
fervent  religious  zeal  of  the  female  mobs.  In  many 
places  the  ladies  suffered  severe  privations ;  they  were 
oftentimes  kept  standing  in  the  cold  and  rain ;  they 
were  often  offended  and  ill  treated ;  but  of  no  avail — 
the  crusade  epidemic  kept  on  raging  with  unabated 
fury.  The  churches  were  crowded  day  and  night. 
Like  all  things  taken  up  by  women,  the  enthusiasm  of 
this  crusade  did  not  last  long ;  it  soon  died  out.  Social 
suggestibility  is  too  strong  in  woman  to  permit  her  to 
remain  long  under  the  influence  of  suggestions  that  are 
out  of  the  way  of  commonplace  life.  Woman  can  not 
leave  long  the  routine  of  her  life,  the  beaten  track  of 
mediocrity ;  she  can  rarely  rise  above  the  trite  ;  she  is  a 
Philistine  by  nature. 

Such  were,  in  the  main,  some  of  the  religious  epi¬ 
demics  that  befell  American  society  for  the  brief  space 
of  its  existence.  Who  can  enumerate  all  the  com¬ 
mercial  “revivals,”  the  “business  bubbles,”  and  the 
economical  panics  closely  following  in  their  wake  ? 


*  Cyclopaedia  of  Methodism,  Bishop  Matthew  Simpson. 


364 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  SUGGESTION. 


Who  can  tell  of  al]  the  crazes  and  manias — such,  for 
instance,  as  the  football  mania,  the  baseball  mania,  the 
prize-fight  insanity,  the  Trilby  craze,  the  bicycle  frenzy, 
the  new-woman  pest — that  have  taken  possession  of 
the  American  social  self  ?  Who  can  count  all  the  in¬ 
dustrial,  political,  and  lynching  mobs  in  which  the  spirit 
of  American  society  has  manifested  itself  ?  Their  name 
is  legion,  for  they  are  innumerable,  countless.* 

Sad  and  melancholy  are  the  mental  aberrations  of 
the  social  mind,  but  very  painful  is  it  to  find  that  they 
flow  from  the  inmost  soul  of  society.  Society  by  its 
very  nature  tends  to  run  riot  in  mobs  and  epidemics. 
For  the  gregarious ,  the  subpersonal ,  uncritical  social 
self,  the  mob  self,  and  the  suggestible  subconscious  self 
are  identical. 


*  While  this  work  was  in  progress  a  great  economico-political 
epidemic,  the  so-called  silver  movement,  was  raging  over  the  coun¬ 
try.  The  work  was  hardly  completed  when  the  excitement  of  the 
silver  mania  subsided,  but  only  to  give  place  to  a  different  form  of 
social  malady,  the  speculative  “  gold-mining  mania,”  the  Klondike 
plague. 


APPENDIX. 


A. 


To  find  out  the  percentage  of  pure  suggestion  cases 
we  use  what  may  be  called  the  method  of  subtraction  by 
distribution.  Let  n  factors  with  a  chance  element  in 
proportion  to  their  number  give  m  results ;  and  let  the 
different  factors  contribute  unequally  to  the  sum  total — 
some  giving  more  results  and  some  less,  and  others,  ex¬ 
cept  for  the  chance  element,  having  almost  no  effect  to 
bring  out  any  results  of  their  own.  Some  of  the  factors 
being  effective  and  others  ineffective,  it  is  now  required 
to  find  how  much  is  due  to  each  factor  and  how  much  to 
chance.  To  solve  this  problem  we  distribute  equally  the 
chance  element  among  the  different  factors,  and  then 
separate  the  results  of  the  factors  into  sets  of  equations, 
each  factor  having  its  equation  with  the  corresponding 
chance  element.  The  equations,  of  course,  have  to  be 
found  by  experimentation.  Adding  then  the  results  of 
the  effective  factors,  and  subtracting  the  sum  from  the 
sum  total  m ,  we  have  the  sum  of  results  given  by  the  in¬ 
effective  factors — that  is,  we  have  pure  chance  results. 
If  now  we  divide  that  last  sum  by  the  number  of  the  in¬ 
effective  factors,  we  get  the  chance  element  of  each  factor. 
Once  the  chance  element  is  found,  we  subtract  it  from 
the  results  given  by  each  one  of  the  effective  factors. 

365 


366 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  SUGGESTION. 


Suppose  we  have  four  factors,  A,  B,  C,  D,  of  which  A 
and  D  are  effective,  B  and  0  are  ineffective.  Suppose 
they  all,  with  the  total  chance  element  included,  give  a 
sum  total  of  m  results ;  and  that  factor  A  with  its  chance 
element  give  a  results,  and  factor  D  with  its  chance  ele¬ 
ment  give  d  results.  Let  P  represent  the  total  chance 
element,  then  P  must  be  distributed  equally  among  the 

p 

factors,  each  factor  having  a  chance  element  of  — .  Let 

x  represent  the  cases  or  results  due  to  the  factor  A  alone, 
and  y  to  D  alone,  we  have  then  the  following  equations 
for  factor  A  and  factor  D  : 

P  P 

+  x  =  a;  -\-y-d 

P 

Factors  B  and  0  will  simply  have  each  _  results. 

p 

Let  —  —p.  We  may  now  arrange  the  factors  as  fol¬ 
lows  : 

A _ p  +  x  =  a 

B  . . . .  p 
C  . . . .  p 

D _ p  -f-  y  =  d. 

Since  the  sum  total  of  experiments  is  m ,  we  have,  on 
adding  all  the  factors,  the  following  formula : 

(p  +  x)  +  {p  +  y)  +  2p  =  m.  [1] 

But  {p  +  y)  =  d  [2] 

(p  +  x)  =a  [3] 

Subtracting  the  sum  of  equations  [2]  and  [3]  from 
equation  [1],  we  get  the  value  of  the  particular  chance 
element,  p.  Solving  now  the  equations  [2]  and  [3],  we 
find  the  values  of  x  and  y. 

1.  Abnormal  Position. 

Let  P  represent  the  number  of  cases  due  to  chance ; 
y,  the  cases  due  to  immediate  suggestibility ;  x ,  the  cases 


APPENDIX. 


367 


due  to  mediate  suggestibility ;  s,  the  total  number  of  ex¬ 
periments  ;  then,  P  -f-  y  -f-  x  =  s.  Now,  P  must  be  equally 
distributed  among  the  squares,  and  as  there  are  six  of 


them,  each  square  has  —  chance  cases. 


have : 


□ 

_  / 

P 


□ 

P 


+ 


2  p+{& 


P  +  !T 


Let 


P 

6 


= then  we 


□ 

p 


This  gives  the  following  formula : 

(1)  3p  -f-  (p  +  y)  +  (%p  -f-  x)  =  s,  which  =  620 

(2)  Now,  (p  -f-  y)  was  found  to  =  345 

(3)  And  (2jt? -f- z)  =130 

Subtracting  (2)  and  (3)  from  (1),  we  have  3 p  =  145 

and  p  =  48-33,  y  =  296-67,  x  =  33-34. 


Out  of  620,  296-67  are  cases  of  immediate  suggesti¬ 
bility,  which  gives  a  percentage  of  47*85. 

This  percentage  or  ratio  of  immediate  suggestibility  I 
represent  by  percentage  y. 

Out  of  620,  33 -34  are  cases  of  mediate  suggestibility, 
which  gives  5-37  per  cent. 

This  percentage  or  ratio  of  mediate  suggestibility  I 
represent  by  percentage  x. 

Hence, 

Percentage  y  =  47*85  per  cent. 

Percentage  x  =  5*37  per  cent. 


2.  Coloured  Cover. 

Number  of  experiments,  400. 

Cases  of  immediate  suggestion,*  (p  -|-  y)  =  190. 
Cases  of  mediate  suggestion,  (2  p  -j-  x)  =  98. 


*  By  “  cases  of  immediate  or  mediate  suggestion  ”  I  mean  all 
the  cases  in  which  the  square  immediately  or  mediately  suggested 
was  taken,  the  chance  cases  not  being  as  yet  eliminated. 


368 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  SUGGESTION. 


Formula. 

3P  +  (P  +  y)  +  (2p  +  *)  =  400 

p  +  y  =  190 

2  p  -j-  x  =  98 

Hence, 

Percentage  y  =  38*16  per  cent. 
Percentage  a;  =  5*83  per  cent. 

3.  Strange  Shape. 

Number  of  experiments,  300. 

Oases  of  immediate  suggestion,  151# 
Cases  of  mediate  suggestion,  83. 

Formula. 

3p  +  (p + y)  +  (%p  +  x)  =  300 

p  y  —  151 
2 p  -j-  x  =  83 

Hence, 

Percentage  y  —  43  per  cent. 
Percentage  x  =  13  per  cent. 

It.  Colour  verbally  Suggested. 

Number  of  experiments,  300. 

Cases  of  immediate  suggestion,  120. 
Cases  of  mediate  suggestion,  80. 

Formula. 

3p  +  (p  +  y)  +  (%p  +  x)  =  300 

p  +  y  =  120 
2  p  -f-  x  =  80 

Hence, 

Percentage  y  =  28*89  per  cent. 
Percentage  x  =  4*44  per  cent. 


APPENDIX. 


369 


5.  Place  verbally  Suggested. 

Number  of  experiments,  400. 

Cases  of  immediate  suggestion,  131. 
Cases  of  mediate  suggestion,  109. 

Formula. 

3i>  +  (p  +  y)  +  (3i>  +  *)  =  400 

p  +  y  —  131 

2jt?  -J-  x  =  109 

Hence, 

Percentage  y  =  19-41  per  cent. 
Percentage  x  =  -58  per  cent. 

6.  Environment. 

Number  of  experiments,  300. 

Cases  of  immediate  suggestion,  115. 
Cases  of  mediate  suggestion,  114. 

Formula. 

3p  +  (p  +  y)  +  (2j o  +  x)  =  300 

p  +  y  =  ns 

2  p  +  x  =  114 

Hence, 

Percentage  y  =  30-44  per  cent. 
Percentage  x  =  22-22  per  cent. 

Total  number  of  experiments,  2,320. 
Cases  of  immediate  suggestion,  1,052. 
Cases  of  mediate  suggestion,  614. 

Formula. 

3jp  +  (p  +  y)  +  (%p  +  v)  =  2,320 

p  -J-  y  =  1,052 
2jt?  +  £  =  614 

Hence, 

Percentage  y  —  35*94  per  cent. 
Percentage  x  —  6-41  per  cent. 


370 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OP  SUGGESTION. 


The  results  of  our  investigation  enable  us  to  formu¬ 
late  in  the  symbolical  language  of  mathematics  the  rela¬ 
tion  of  normal  and  abnormal  suggestibility.  (The  reader 
is  asked  to  regard  the  formulae  as  mere  mathematical 
illustrations  of  relations  of  psychic  phenomena.) 

We  know  that  abnormal  suggestibility  varies  as  direct 
suggestion  and  inversely  as  indirect  suggestion,  whereas 
normal  suggestibility  varies  as  indirect  suggestion  and 
inversely  as  direct  suggestion.  Now,  indicating  abnormal 
suggestibility  by  S,  normal  suggestibility  by  Sl5  direct 
suggestion  by  c?,  and  indirect  suggestion  by  iy  we  may 
express  the  laws  of  suggestibility  in  the  following  way : 


The  relation  of  normal  to  abnormal  suggestibility  is 
expressed  by  the  following  formula : 

s  ~  d' 

If  now  we  make  i  equal  to  1,  we  have : 

S* :  S  =  1  : 

That  is,  as  we  retreat  from  the  normal  state  and  ad¬ 
vance  into  that  of  abnormal  suggestibility,  the  efficacy  or 
the  force  of  direct  suggestion  increases  as  the  square  of 
its  magnitude.  In  other  words,  the  efficacy  or  force  of 
direct  suggestion  increases  faster  than  the  magnitude 
of  advance  into  the  state  of  abnormal  suggestibility- 


*  Such  a  proportion  is  possible,  because  S  and  Si  differ  but  in 
the  amount  of  disaggregation. 


APPENDIX.  371 

And,  vice  versa ,  the  force  of  direct  suggestion  diminishes 
faster  than  the  advance  into  the  normal  state. 

Furthermore,  once  the  abnormal  state  is  induced,  it 
becomes  deeper  as  we  increase  and  multiply  the  force  of 
direct  suggestion. 

Inverting  the  proportion  and  putting  d  equal  to  1,  we 
have : 

S  :  Sj  —  1 :  i*. 

That  is,  as  we  pass  the  borderland  of  the  abnormal  and 
advance  into  the  normal  state,  the  efficacy  or  force  of 
indirect  suggestion  increases  as  the  square  of  its  magni¬ 
tude.  In  other  words,  the  efficacy  of  the  indirect  sugges¬ 
tion  increases  faster  than  the  advance  into  the  normal 
state.  And,  vice  versa ,  the  force  of  indirect  suggestion 
decreases  faster  with  the  reverse  procession. 


Making  a  table,  we  have : 


Class  A. 

First  Group. 

Experi-  General  charac- 

ments.  ter  guessed.  Chance.  Secondary  sight. 
First  series,  100  68  50  18  per  cent. 

Second  series,  100  72  50  22  “ 


Second  Group. 

Experi-  General  charac- 

ments.  ter  guessed.  Chance.  Secondary  sight. 

First  series,  100  70  50  20  per  cent. 

Second  series,  100  76  50  26  “ 


372 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  SUGGESTION. 


Total, 


Experi-  General  charac- 
ments.  ter  guessed.  Chance. 

400  286  50 

(71-5  p.  c.) 


Secondary  sight. 

21*5  per  cent. 


D. 

To  eliminate  the  chance  element  and  to  find  the  per¬ 
centage  of  correct  guesses,  both  general  and  particular, 
due  to  secondary  sight,  let  y  be  the  correct  general 
guesses  due  to  secondary  sight,  and  p  the  correct  gen¬ 
eral  chance  guesses ;  let,  again,  x  represent  the  correct 
particular  guesses  due  to  secondary  sight,  and  p  the  par¬ 
ticular  chance  guesses.  We  have  the  following  formula: 

(p  +  y)  +  (pi+x)  =  M'%  [i] 

(pi  +  x)  =  at  [2] 

(p-\-y)  are  all  the  correct  general  guesses  as  mere 
general,  while  (p^  -f-  x)  are  all  the  correct  particular 
guesses  regarded  from  the  standpoint  of  their  generality. 
For,  as  I  pointed  out  in  the  text,  every  particular  guess 
is  also  a  general  one  {px  +  x) ;  again,  in  the  second  equa¬ 
tion  are  the  correct  particular  guesses  as  particular. 
Subtracting  equation  [2]  from  [1],  we  have, 

(p  +  y)  =  21-2  [3] 

These  are  all  the  correct  general  guesses  taken  apart  from 
(Pi  +  x)  the  general-particular  guesses.  Now,  in  equa¬ 
tion  [3],  p  is  50  per  cent,  because  each  guess  has  only 
one  alternative,  letter  or  figure ;  in  other  words,  p  =  y\ 
hence,  y  =  10-6. 

Since  there  are  only  ten  characters  to  guess  in  each 
particular  case,  therefore  in  a  hundred  cases  the  chance 


APPENDIX. 


373 


element  in  equation  [2]  is  ten,  or  p1  =  10  and  x  =  37 ; 
and  since  y  =  10*6,  therefore  y  -f-  x,  or  the  general 
guesses  taken  in  their  totality,  =  47*6. 

Making  a  table,  we  have : 


Class  B. 


Experi¬ 

General 

Particular 

Secondary  sight, 

ments. 

character. 

character. 

general  character. 

400 

273 

188 

47*6  per  cent. 

particular  character. 

100 

68*2 

47 

37*0  per  cent. 

Formula. 

(p  +  y)  +  (Pi + *)  = 68-3 

-j-  x  —  47 

j>  +  y  =  si*2  i?i  =  io 
p  —  y  =  37 

y  =  10-6  ?/ +  2=47-6 

Note. — In  all  ray  subsequent  calculations  on  secondary  sight 
p  and  y  stand  for  mere  general  cases,  while  pi  and  x  stand  for  the 
class  of  particular  guesses,  and  also  for  the  class  which  is  both 
particular  and  general. 


Making  a  table,  we  have : 


Experi¬ 

General 

Class  C. 

Particular 

Secondary  sight, 

ments. 

character. 

character. 

general  character. 

400 

255 

92 

40-5  per  cent. 

100 

63-7 

23 

particular  character. 
20*2  per  cent. 

374 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  SUGGESTION. 


Formula. 

(i’l  +  y)  +  (P\  +  *)  =  63-7 
px  — {-  ic  =  23 

p  +  y  —  40*7  px  =  2*8 
p  =  y  y  -J-  x  =  40-5 
y  =  20-3 

Here  ^  =  2*8  because  of  the  number  of  characters  to 
choose  from,  there  being  twenty-six  letters  and  nine  digits 
(zero  was  excluded). 


Making  tables,  we  have : 


Class  Z>. 

First  Group. 

Experi¬ 

General  Particular 

Secondary  sight, 

ments. 

character,  character. 

general  character. 

200 

130  49 

41*9  per  cent. 

100 

65  24-5 

particular  character. 
21*7  per  cent. 

Formula. 

(p  +  y)  +  (pi  +  x)  = 

65 

Pi  +  X  = 

24*5 

p-\-y  =  40-5 

Pi  =  2-8 
x  =  21-7 

p  =  y 

x  -|-  y  =  41*9 

y  =  20*2 

APPENDIX. 


375 


Second  Group. 


Experi¬ 

ments. 

200 

General 

character. 

140 

Particular 

character. 

54 

Secondary  sight, 
general  character. 

45*7  per  cent. 

100 

70 

27 

particular  character. 
24*2  per  cent. 

Formula. 


(p  +  y)  +  (pi  +  x)  =  rto 
px  +  x  =  27 

Pi—  2-8 

-f-  y  =  43  a;  =  24-2 

p  =  y  x-\-y  =  4:5‘  7 

y  =  21*5 


Total. 


Experi-  General  Particular 

ments.  character,  character. 

400  270  103 


Secondary  sight, 
general  character.. 

43 '8  per  cent. 

particular  character. 

22-9  per  cent. 


Class  E. 


First  Group. 


Experi¬ 

ments. 

200 

General 

character. 

140 

Particular 

character. 

68 

Secondary  sight, 
general  character. 

42  per  cent. 

100 

70 

34 

particular  character. 
24  per  cent. 

2? 


376 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  SUGGESTION. 


Formula. 

(p + y)  +  (Pi  +  x)  =  7o 
px  -j-  x  =  34 

Pi  =  10 

p-\-  y  =  36  x  =  24 

p  —  y  y  +  x  =  42 

y  =  is 


Second  Group. 


Experi¬ 

ments. 

200 

General 

character. 

151 

Particular 

character. 

71 

Secondary  sight, 
general  character. 

45  5  per  cent. 

100 

75-5 

35*5 

particular  character. 

25*5  per  cent. 

Formula. 

i>  +  y+.Pi  +  z  = 
^1  +  *  = 
^  +  ?/  -  40 

p  =  y 

2/  =  2  0 

75-5 

35-5 

Pi  =  io 
x  —  25*5 
y  +  x  =  45-5 

Total. 

Experi¬ 

ments. 

400 

General 

character. 

291 

Particular 

character. 

139 

Secondary  sight, 
general  character. 

43-7  per  cent. 

100 

72’7 

34*7 

particular  chance. 
24*7  per  cent. 

APPENDIX. 


377 


If  we  designate  the  probability  of  each  figure  being 
taken  by  chance  by  p,  immediate  suggestion  by  x,  locality 
suggestion  by  y,  number  suggestion  by  5?,  we  have : 

(2  #  +  y) 

2  6  4  7  1  5  3  8 


(%p  +  y)  +  typ  + z)  +  (p  +  x)  +  3p  —  1000 

2  p-\-y  =  208 
2p  +  z  =  179 
p  -j-  x  =  394 


Solving  these  equations  and  eliminating  p,  we  have : 

Percentage  x  =  32*1  per  cent. 

“  y  =  6-2  “ 

“  2=  3*3  “ 

Experi-  Immediate  Locality  Number 

ments.  suggestion.  suggestion.  suggestion. 

1000  394  208  179 

32*1  per  cent.  6*2  per  cent.  3*3  per  cent. 


Formula. 


(2p  +  y)  +  (%p  +  z)  +  (p  +  *)  +  3p 

321 

Percentage  x  =  =  32*1  per  cent,  p  -f  x 


Percentage  y  = 


62 

1000 

33 


=  6*2 


Percentage  z  =  =  3*3 

p  =  73 


u 


u 


zp  +  y 

2p-\-z 


1000 

394 

208 

179 


3p  =  219 


378 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  SUGGESTION. 


I. 


If  we  designate  the  number  of  the  crowd  by  m ,  the 

energy  of  the  hero  by  s,  the  energy  awakened  by  the  hero 

s 

in  each  individual  by  — ,  and  the  energy  awakened  by 

/V 

s 

each  individual  in  his  fellow  by  — ,  the  total  energy 

711  S 

awakened  by  the  hero  is  -p— ,  the  total  energy  awakened 

071  S 

by  each  individual  is  y ,  the  total  energy  of  the  mob  is 

m  s  ,  m  s  , .  ,  m2  5  .ms 

m  y  +  y ,  or  the  mob-energy  =  y-  +  y 

Designating  the  total  mob-energy  by  E,  we  have  : 
m*  s  .  ms  ms.  , 

E  =  ^-+^  =  ^(«  +  2) 


Let  Ej  represent  the  energy  of  another  mob,  whose  ini- 
initial  energy  is  also  s ,  but  the  number  of  individuals  is 
different,  say  w1}  then  the  relation  of  the  two  mob-energies 
will  be : 


ms  , 

E  _  4  (m  +  2)  _  m(m± 2) 
El  miK+2) 


Putting  mi  =  n  m,  we  have  : 

E  m  +  2  _  fn2m-\-  2w\  _ 

Ej  n  m  -j-  2  1  \  m  -f-  2  / 


( 


^  may  be  regarded  as  the  coefficient  of  mob- 


71 2  m  -j-  2?z- 
m  -f-  2 

energy.  If  the  mob-energy  of  100  individuals  be  taken 
as  a  unit,  then  the  mob-energy  of  200,  or  of  twice  as  many 
individuals,  will  be  about  four  times  as  great.  In  a  mob 
of  200,  ti  =  2  and  7Ji  =  100,  substituting  these  numerical 


APPENDIX. 


379 


values  in  the  formula  of  the  mob-coefficient,  we  have 


404 

102’ 


which  gives  a  quotient  of  about  four  units. 


A  mob 


of  300  gives  about  nine  times  as  much  energy,  or  nine 
units.  A  mob  of  400  gives  about  sixteen  units.  In  short, 
we  may  say  that  while  the  numbers  of  the  mob  grow  in 
an  arithmetical  progression,  the  energy  of  the  mob  grows 
(approximately)  in  a  geometrical  progression.* 

The  growth  of  mob-energy  may  be  graphically  repre¬ 
sented  by  a  curve. 

B 


/ 


The  horizontal  line  X  Xx  represents  the  number  of 
individuals  in  the  mob  from  100  to  1,000  ;  the  perpendicu¬ 
lars  represent  the  rates  of  mob-energy;  and  the  curve 
A  B  is  the  curve  of  mob-energy. 

*  The  reader  must  regard  the  formula  as  but  an  illustration  of 
the  proposition  that  the  mob-energy  grows  faster  than  the  sum  of 
individuals. 


INDEX. 


Abnormal  position,  factor  of  sugges¬ 
tion,  38,  40,  52,  366. 

Abstract  ideas,  171. 

Activity,  selective,  228. 

Albigenses,  323. 

Amaurosis,  hysterical,  94. 
experiments  on,  95. 
test  of,  94. 

American  revivals,  350. 
society,  362,  364. 
women,  362,  363. 

Amnesia,  72. 
cause  of,  203,  211. 
diagnosis  of,  234. 
law  of,  231. 

physiological  side  of,  231. 
suggested,  119,  120,  258. 
types  of,  242. 

Amnesic  state,  71. 

Anaesthesia  in  automatic  writing, 
143. 

experiments  on,  92,  93. 
hysterical,  91, 163. 
systematized,  109. 

Analgesia  in  hypnosis,  107. 
Association  of  contiguity,  268. 
Associationism,  189. 

criticism  of,  190. 

Attention,  distraction  of,  46,  211. 
fixation  of,  45,  56. 
fluctuation  of,  211. 

Autochthonic  ideas,  282. 


Automatic  writing,  96, 141. 
cases  of,  143, 145,  247. 
conditions  of,  142. 
post-hypnotic,  105. 

Baldwin,  8,  24,  58. 

Beaunis,  84. 

Bergson,  150. 

Bernheim,  20,  24,  84. 

Binet,  16,  60,  81,  95,  99, 158,  163. 
Black  death,  326. 

Bodinus,  340. 

Braid,  56,  60, 149, 151. 

Brain-cells,  organization  of,  210. 

Camp  meetings,  350. 

Carpenter,  124, 151. 

Catalepsy,  12,  62,  79,  82,  84. 
control  of,  186. 
in  normal  state,  180. 

Centres,  nervous,  67. 

Cerebration,  unconscious,  118. 

criticism  of,  121. 

Charcot,  81. 

Choice  suggestion,  experiments  on, 
175. 

Coexistence,  factor  of  suggestion,  30, 
33,  55. 

Colour,  factor  of  suggestion,  39,  53, 
368. 

Coloured  cover,  factor  of  suggestion, 
38,  53,  367. 


381 


382 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  SUGGESTION. 


Conceptualism,  171. 

Consciousness,  controlling,  64, 66,  87, 
90. 

desultory,  199. 
double,  68. 
guardian,  68. 
inhibitory,  68. 

in  the  normal  individual,  160. 
limitation  of,  47,  59. 
moment,  201,  205,  228. 
passive,  64. 

primary,  97, 103, 142, 172,  296. 
recognitive,  199. 
reflex,  79. 

secondary,  92,  95, 103, 128,  161. 

social,  297. 

subwaking,  89. 

synthetic,  199,  203. 

types  of,  199. 

upper,  103, 108, 112, 179. 

waking,  87, 147. 

wave  of,  188, 192. 

Content,  moment,  203. 

Conversion,  religious,  354. 

Cordozo,  Michael,  329. 

Crowd,  entrancement  of,  299,  301, 
303. 

suggestibility  of,  297. 

Crusades,  320,  323,  326. 
children’s,  323. 
woman’s,  363. 

Crystal-gazing,  154. 

Cytoclasis,  232,  233. 

Dancing  mania,  326. 

Delboeuf,  27. 

Democracy  and  stampedes,  318. 
Demonomania,  278. 
cases  of,  284-286. 
nature  of,  284. 

Demonophobia,  331. 
in  America,  342. 
in  England,  337. 
in  Germany,  340. 
in  Holland,  341. 
in  Italy,  333. 
in  Scotland,  334. 


Dessoir,  63, 151. 

Differences  of  hypnoidic  and  hyp- 
noidal  states,  239. 

Disaggregation  of  consciousness,  77, 
89,  185,  292,  300,  304. 
of  moments,  185,  202. 
nature  of  functional,  212. 
of  nerve-cell  associations,  211. 
psycho-physiological,  231. 
of  social  consciousness,  308. 
of  the  two  selves,  70, 77,  142, 160. 

Disease,  functional,  214. 

Dissociation,  71. 

Double  consciousness,  cases  of,  130, 
132,  139,  216,  284. 

Environment,  factor  of  suggestion, 
38,  369. 

Epidemics,  mental,  310. 
nature  of,  311. 
table  of,  349. 

Epilepsy,  242. 

Esquirol,  285,  356. 

Experiments  in  automatic  writing, 
143. 

on  brain-cell  retraction,  213. 
on  catalepsy  in  hypnosis,  79. 
on  catalepsy  in  waking  state,  181. 
on  choice,  38. 
criticism  of  transfer,  83. 
in  crystal-gazing,  155. 
in  distraction,  97, 129. 
on  duplication  of  consciousness  in 
healthy  individuals,  159. 
on  guesses,  95,  178. 
on  hypersesthesia  in  hypnosis,  148. 
hypnotic,  9, 11,  22. 
on  hysterical  anaesthesia,  92,  96. 
on  intercommunicated  choice  sug¬ 
gestion,  172, 176,  377. 
on  intercommunication  between 
the  two  selves,  163, 170. 
with  letters  and  figures,  29. 
on  negative  hallucinations,  109, 
123. 

on  personality  metamorphosis,  253, 
258. 


INDEX. 


383 


Experiments  in  post-hypnotic  auto¬ 
matic  writing,  103,  105. 
on  pulse  and  respiration,  107. 
quasi  phrenological,  80,  83. 
on  the  secondary  self  in  normal 
waking  state,  151, 153. 
on  secondary  sight,  166,  168,  171, 
871. 

in  shell-hearing,  157. 
on  somnambulic  hyperaesthesia, 
148, 153. 

on  suggestion  with  letters  and  fig¬ 
ures,  28. 

on  suggestion  of  movements,  34. 
transfer,  81. 

Fer4,  81. 

Financial  crazes,  343. 
in  England,  347. 
in  France,  345. 
in  Holland,  344. 
cause  and  nature  of,  348. 
chronological  table  of,  349. 

Fish,  Eev.  H.  C.,  305,  360,  362. 
Flagellant  epidemic,  326. 

Forel,  20. 

Frequency,  factor  of  suggestion,  30, 
33. 

Functional  diseases,  nature  of,  202, 
214. 

physiological  theory  of,  211. 

Galton,  311. 

Goltz,  80. 

Gourney,  21,  71,  99, 104. 

Great  American  revival,  353. 
Gregariousness,  nature  of,  310, 313. 
Grossmann,  11. 

Guessing,  method  of,  95. 

Guilt,  sense  of,  354. 

Hallucination,  negative,  109, 118. 
in  paranoia,  278. 
subconscious,  154. 
suggested,  150. 

Hegelianism,  195. 
criticism  of,  196. 


Heidenhein,  80. 

Ilerbartians,  188. 

Hume,  197. 

Hyperagsthesia  of  subconscious  self, 
148,  153, 157. 

Hypnoid  states,  234. 

Hypnoidal  states,  224,  235. 

Hypnoidic  states,  225. 
Hypnoidization,  method  of,  224. 
Hypnoleptic  state,  227. 

Hypnonergic  state,  235,  278. 
Hypnosis,  12,  63,  71,  74,  77,  88,  99, 
119,  140,  151,  153,  158, 164,  327. 
classification  of,  62,  71. 
cleft  in,  65. 
conditions  of,  56. 

controlling  consciousness  in,  64, 66. 
definition  of,  69. 
hyperesthesia  in,  148. 
nature  of,  77. 

passive  consciousness  in,  64. 
theory  of,  67. 

Hysteria,  91. 
experiments  on,  164. 
in  history,  312. 
nature  of,  229,  234. 
religious,  352. 

Ideas,  abstract,  171. 
autochthonic,  282. 
insistent,  269,  292. 
of  persecution,  278. 
suggested,  insistent,  13,  271,  292. 
Immediate  execution,  49,  88,  297. 
Inhibition,  48,  61,  300. 

Inhibitory  consciousness,  90. 
Insanity,  impulsive,  270. 
nature  of,  271. 

James,  57,  85, 145, 156,  188,  190,  285, 
348. 

Janet,  16,  97, 100, 129,  132. 

Jewish  epidemic,  327. 
mobs,  305. 

Jordan,  President,  359. 

Kentucky  revivals,  350. 
Kleptomania,  271. 


384 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  SUGGESTION. 


Klondike  plague,  364. 

Knowledge  about  and  of  acquaint¬ 
ance,  193. 

Krafft-Ebing,  65. 

Krishaber,  65. 

Last  impression,  factor  of  suggestion, 
31,  33,  55. 

Lehmann,  57. 

Lethargy,  81. 

Liebault,  24,  82, 116,  295. 

Liegeois,  109. 

Lloyd-Tukey,  63. 

Luther,  334. 

Lynching  mobs,  364. 

Mackay,  Charles,  342,  344, 346, 348. 
Mania,  anti-Semitic,  326. 
dancing,  326. 
flagellant,  326. 
mystico-Messianic,  329. 
revival,  354. 
silver,  364. 

speculative,  343,  346,  360. 
witchcraft,  334. 

Mason,  Osgood,  132. 

Maudsley,  125. 

Memory,  124,  127,  188. 
Mesmerization,  57. 

Method  of  automatic  writing,  93,  96, 
104. 

of  distraction,  97. 
of  guessing,  95,  166, 168,  170. 
of  hypnoidization,  224. 
of  hypnotic  suggestion,  85. 
of  hvpnotization,  57,  60. 
of  subtraction  by  distribution,  365. 
Mill,  J.  S.,  188. 

Millerism,  356. 

Mississippi  scheme,  343, 345. 

Mnesic  state,  71. 

Mob  energy,  304. 
curve  of,  379. 
formula  of,  378. 

Mob,  growth  of  the,  303. 
impulsiveness,  307. 
nature  of  the,  299,  308. 


Mob,  suggestibility  of  the,  297. 

Moll,  57,  82. 

Moment-content,  203,  206,  229. 
Moments  of  consciousness,  196,  201, 
205,  228. 

of  self-consciousness,  197. 
Monotony,  47,  57, 300. 

Munster  berg,  36. 

Myers,  143,  156,  246. 

Nancy  school,  24,  57,  70. 

Nerve-cells,  203. 
association  of,  209. 
dissolution  of  association  of,  211. 
retraction  of  fibrillas  of,  212. 
Nervous  centres,  67. 

Neuraxon,  209,  212. 

Nominalism,  171. 

Ochorowitz,  6. 

Organization  of  brain-cells,  210. 

Panic,  industrial,  344,  348,  360. 
Paramnesia,  274. 
cases  of,  275. 
nature  of,  277. 

Ribot  on,  276. 

Royce  on,  276. 

Paranoia,  278. 
cases  of,  279. 
nature  of,  281. 

Royce  on,  281. 
social,  332. 

Wernicke  on,  282. 

Paris  school,  81. 

criticism  of,  82. 

Passivity  in  hypnosis,  64. 
Personality,  double,  130,  132,  139, 
216,  284. 

in  the  crowd,  299. 
metamorphosis  of,  252,  255,  258, 
266,  278. 

nature  of,  194, 198. 
in  society,  312. 
triple,  289. 
types  of,  200. 

Pick,  Arnold,  275. 


INDEX. 


385 


Place,  factor  of  suggestion,  38,  369. 
Pneumographic  tracings,  107. 
Post-hypnotic  suggestion,  10, 13, 100, 
119, 164,  174,  269,  272,  274,  294. 
Process  of  dissolution  of  cell  aggre¬ 
gation,  212,  232. 
cause  of,  211,  212. 

Protestant  massacres,  319. 
Psycho-physical  life,  highest  type 
of,  211. 

Psycho-physiological  disaggregation, 
process  of,  233. 

Psycho-physiological  theory,  177. 
Pyromania,  271. 

Recognition,  92, 125,  240. 

Reflex  action,  71. 

Reflex  consciousness,  79,  88. 
Reformation,  333. 

Repetition,  factor  of  suggestion,  30, 
34,  55. 

Retraction  of  nerve-cells,  212. 
Revivals,  American,  350,  352,  353, 
356,  360. 

Irish,  361. 

Jewish,  362. 

Ribot,  125. 
on  paramnesia,  276. 
criticism  of,  277. 

Richet,  82. 

Rosse,  Irving  C.,  289. 

Royce,  276,  281. 

Russian  anti- Jewish  riots,  305. 

Salpetriere  school,  70. 
criticism  of,  82. 
hypnotic  stages  of,  81. 

Secondary  consciousness,  94,  128, 
143, 161. 

intelligence  of,  100. 

Secondary  sight,  experiments  on,  165. 
Sej unction  of  consciousness,  282. 

Self,  definition  of,  188. 
Self-consciousness,  types  of,  200. 
Shape,  strange,  factor  of  suggestion, 
38,  43,  368. 

Shell-hearing,  157. 


Sidgwick,  H.,  Mrs.,  155. 

Silver  mania,  364. 

Social  consciousness,  disaggregation 
of,  308,  310,  313. 

Society,  nature  of,  310. 
Somnambulism,  63,  65,  82,  84,  100, 
110,  113,  184. 

Sorcery,  332. 

South  Sea  bubble,  347. 

Speculative  mania,  course  of,  348. 
Sphygmographic  tracings,  on  cata¬ 
lepsy,  80. 
on  pain,  107. 

Spinoza,  329. 

Stampedes,  English,  315. 

Russian,  317. 

Subconsciousness,  elements  of,  201. 

experiments  on,  101, 103,  107. 
Subconscious  messages  in  hypnosis, 
164. 

Subconscious  self,  109. 
credulity  of,  293. 
disaggregation  of,  292. 
hyperaesthesia  of,  148. 
impersonality  of,  246,  296. 
intelligent  nature  of,  127. 
moments  of,  201,  206. 
in  normal  state,  166, 180. 
servility  of,  296. 

Subconscious  states,  forms  of,  243. 
Suggestibility,  classification  of,  18. 
conditions  of  abnormal,  61. 
conditions  of  normal,  49. 
definition  of,  15. 
law  of,  90. 

law  of  abnormal,  86,  89.  . 

law  of  normal,  55,  89. 
in  man,  17,  44. 
nature  of,  90,  185. 
social,  309,  316,  327. 
table  of,  33. 

table  of  immediate  and  mediate,  42. 
table  of  total,  51. 

Suggestion  arc,  21. 
classification  of,  23. 
definition  of,  15. 
direct,  19. 


386 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  SUGGESTION. 


Suggestion,  elements  of,  10. 
immediate,  22, 40. 
indirect,  20. 
mediate,  23,  40. 

post-hypnotic,  10, 13,  100, 119, 164, 
174,  269,  272,  274,  294. 
success  of,  79. 

Suggestion  experiments,  factors  of, 
29,  38. 

Suggestionism,  73. 

criticism  of,  73,  75. 

Sybel,  Heinrich  von,  322. 

Synthesis  of  apprehension,  203. 
of  mental  activity,  210. 
of  recognition,  207. 
of  reproduction,  204. 

Tarantism,  327. 

Transformation  of  personality,  252, 
255,  258,  266,  268,  278. 

Eibot  on,  281. 

Eoyce  on,  282. 

Triple  personality,  289. 

Tulipomania,  343. 


Unconscious  cerebration,  118, 176. 

criticism  of,  119, 177. 

Upham,  342. 

Van  Gieson,  Ira,  215,  232. 
visions,  222,  238. 

Voluntary  movements,  limitation  of, 
47,  59,  299. 

Wave  theory  of  consciousness,  188, 
194. 

Wernicke  on  paramnesia,  276. 

on  paranoia,  282. 

Will,  68,  71. 

Witchcraft  mania,  331. 

Woman’s  crusade,  363. 

Women,  362,  363. 

Yandell,  D.  W.,  353. 

Zevi,  Sabbathai,  327. 

Ziehen,  Prof.,  67,  119,  124. 


vL 


THE  END, 


VALUABLE  BOOKS  ON  PSYCHOLOGY 


APPLIED  PSYCHOLOGY 

By  H.  L.  HOLLINGWORTH  AND  A.  T.  POFFENBERGER, 
JR. 

AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIAL  PSYCHOLOGY 

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VOCATIONAL  PSYCHOLOGY  (The  Conduct  of 
Mind  Series)  By  HARRY  L.  HOLLINGWORTH 

PSYCHOLOGY  IN  DAILY  LIFE  (The  Conduct  of 
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MENTAL  ADJUSTMENTS  (The  Conduct  of  Mind 

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CHARACTER  AND  TEMPERAMENT  (The  Conduct 
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CONTROL  OF  THE  SOCIAL  MIND  (The  Conduct 
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PLEASURE  AND  BEHAVIOR  (The  Conduct  of 
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THE  NORMAL  MIND 

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A  SCALE  OF  PERFORMANCE  TESTS 

BY  RUDOLF  PINTNER  AND  DONALD  G.  PATERSON 

THE  MENTAL  SURVEY 

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PSYCHOLOGY,  GENERAL  AND  APPLIED 

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THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  NATIONALITY  AND 
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THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  FUNCTIONAL  NEUROSES 
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THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  SUGGESTION 

By  BORIS  S’IDIS.  INTRODUCTION  BY  WILLIAM  JAMES 

THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  LAUGHTER 

By  BORIS  SIDIS 

FOUNDERS  OF  MODERN  PSYCHOLOGY 

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PRINCIPLES  OF  PSYCHOLOGY 

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